In the Name of Love
by chariots99
Summary: All their past adventures had been leading to this point. Because it wasn't fate that brought them together, it was something else. A secret so big, people would kill to keep it secret. So came the big question: how far would you go in the name of love?
1. How It All Began Again

_And I'm back, with the long awaited sequel! Or should it be fivequel? And yes, I know I said I'd post this last week, but apparently you need internet to do that ... _

_If you've only just joined us, let me first welcome you to my series! Then let me tell you that the reading order (so that you're not completely lost) is:_

_1) Not for the Faint Hearted_

_(OPTIONAL) The Evening Jog_

_2) What Doesn't Kill You Will Inevitably Try Again_

_3) Fearless_

_4) Not Every Story Ends Happily Ever After_

_(OPTIONAL THE SECOND) A Christmas Story_

_5) This one – ie, In The Name of Love_

_Okay, now that that's settled, please remember to leave some reviews! Constructive Criticism would also be highly appreciated! Xox_

_Something else I'd like to add; __**OMFG I JUST REALISED DESSI HAS THE SAME LAST NAME AS A CERTAIN CHARACTER FROM A CERTAIN TWILIGHT SAGA!**__ Is it too late to change her last name?_

_._

_**Title**__ – In The Name of Love_

_**Summary**__ – Unbeknownst to them, all their past adventures had been leading to this point. Because it wasn't fate that brought them together. It was something else. A secret so big that those who protect it would kill just to keep it hidden. And so came the big question; how far would you go in the name of love?_

_**Warning**__ – I'm planning for this story to be a lot darker than my previous ones (*all my readers start rolling around in fits of laughter*). The reason is that this is set several years later, so everyone has matured. Of course, it will probably _not_ turn out the way I want, but I want to try writing something darker..._

_**Disclaimer**__ – I own nothing that you recognise. Nothing._

_._

**Chapter 1 – How It All Began Again**

.

The Orphan

Gregory Rider had never been a normal boy. As an infant, he had never cried. As a child, he had never asked for that which wasn't his. Never had he complained about the unfairness of his life.

This was a boy who seemed to take everything in his stride, be it good or bad, and carry on with his head held high.

Currently, Gregory Rider was lazing about under the shade of a massive oak tree.

Today marked the fourteenth anniversary of his stay at the orphanage. Fourteen years since the day he was found on the doorstep of With Open Arms (WOA).

People often asked if he hated his parents, like a lot of orphaned kids did. But he always replied with a firm "no". After all, the orphanage had told him about the circumstances around his becoming orphaned. How could he hate his parents, if they had been shot dead because of something beyond their control?

In actual fact, he was rather grateful to them. After all, they must've done something to protect him if they were gone and he was alive. Or at least, that's how he preferred to think of it.

Greg sighed, looking out over the lawn at the younger orphans, who were involved in a very fast-paced game of soccer. He was fourteen now. Had been for two months. And the further he went into teenage-hood, the slimmer his changes of being adopted became.

Not that he didn't like it at WOA – as far as orphanages went, it was a pretty decent place to have grown up in. It was just, as selfish as it may sound, he wanted his own family. He wanted a brother to play with, and a sister to protect. Cousins to bully, grandparents to dote on his every breath. A father he could look up to, someone to give him strength. To work, so he wouldn't have to. To help him understand the mindset of the female population.

But most of all, he wanted a mother. He wanted delicious home cooked meals, and to be told to clean up his room. He wanted some to look after him when he was sick, to worry about each tiny, inconsequential scratch. Someone to embarrass him in front of all his friends when she gave him another kiss. He wanted the safety of a mother's embrace, and the soft words telling him that everything would be okay.

Greg snorted, amused at his delusional fantasies. God, the changes of him being adopted were almost as high as getting a kiss from Emily Marsh.

In other words, next to none.

"Gregoryyyyyyyyyyyyyy!"

The fourteen year old looked up to see one of the younger orphans beckoning frantically at him.

"We need a new centre forward! Can you fill the spot? Pleeeeeeeeeaase?"

Greg smiled. "You even had to ask?"

Despite his daydreams, he knew he lived a good life. The younger orphaned children adored him – they saw him as the only fixed pillar in their constantly changing lives. This was especially true for the fostered kids, ninety percent of whom were dumped back at the orphanage before being re-fostered, and then dumped back again.

Heck, he even had adopted kids coming back to him, just for a friend to talk to.

After being in the orphanage for fourteen years, he now got along with the staff extremely well. In particular, a really pretty woman named Sandy Phillips, who volunteered at the orphanage to "pay off her debt to society". Not that she really needed to – the woman was an emergency-room medic. She'd probably saved more lives than he could count.

It was too bad she was thirty-four and married, really.

Despite all this, Greg had never wasted an opportunity to wish for a real family.

.

The Prisoner

Only five people in the world had ever known the exact location of the island. One, the luckiest, had died a natural death. Two had been assassinated; each had been shot through the knee, then the gut, then the heart, and finally the head. They had both died screaming.

The two left had been brothers. Cold, vicious, cruel, they possessed an unmatched level of blood-lust and greed. Together, they were unstoppable. However, as the last two bearers of the secret, they had turned against each other in a fit of jealousy. What followed had been arguably the most violent battle of the underworld. Weeks passed, bringing with it innocent bloodshed and the never ending roar of guns.

Until finally, only one was left standing.

Michaelis Menten smiled a cold, merciless smile as he remembered the remains of his late brother. Around him, his mindless followers and bodyguards exchanged glances, fidgeting nervously at the expression on their Boss's face.

The original owner of the small island had been the only one to die a natural death. He'd known of the closeness of his demise, and had thus passed the secret onto his four most trusted protégées, knowing that by the time he was gone from the world, only one would be left with the secret.

The island was like an impregnable fortress. Communications going into or out of the island were scrambled to thousands of locations across the world, bouncing around faster than the blink of an eye, making it almost impossible for anyone to even try and trace the central location.

Only a handful of people had ever set foot on the island, and they had all been handpicked by Menten as followers who would follow him into hell and beyond without question.

However, not even they knew all of which the sinister island possessed.

"The prisoner, sir," one of the guards said, breaking into Menten's thoughts.

"Ah yes, how is he doing?" Menten asked, cold-hearted glee lacing his voice.

The guard pulled up live footage from the camera installed in the prisoner's cell.

"Leave me," Menten ordered, his eyes trained on the prisoner slumped in the corner of his cell.

Quietly the guards filed out, and Menten was once more alone in the dark surveillance room.

He observed the prisoner with a kind of sadistic pleasure. _That was all my doing_, he thought, a colds smile twitching on his lips, _all me_.

The prisoner stayed slumped in his cell. Long dirty blond hair fell into the prisoner's closed eyes. Rags that may once have had colour, hung torn and bloodied around the prisoner's limp form. Skeletal hands, the result of years of starvation, lay uselessly on the cold concrete floor, the energy required to move them having long been drained.

Menten zoomed the live feed closer to the prone shape. The prisoner was shivering. Rags were not enough to keep anyone warm, especially not when they'd been kept in subzero temperatures for God-knows how long.

Suddenly, almost as if he knew he was being watched, the prisoner opened his tired eyes for the first time in a week. The too-thin face turned until it was staring right into the camera. Menten stared right back, smirking at the hollow eyes.

A flash of pride, of honour, of defiance, crossed those brown eyes, before they flickered shut.

Anger crossed Menten's face as he watched the prisoner's head slump back against the wall.

"Just you wait," he snarled, "Just you wait. I'll break you yet, Alex Rider."

.

How it all began again...

It was a quiet evening. Too quiet.

For Lisa Bee, one of the hospital's top psychiatrists, this was rather unusual. She'd worked with these patients long enough to know that they were never quiet, not even at night. They had too many nightmares. Too many painful memories.

Lisa frowned in thought as she made her final round for the night, peering through the Spy Window of each room to make sure her patients were in still there. So far, each of them were fast asleep, tucked soundly into their beds. That in itself was strange; they almost never went to sleep when they were told.

With a sense of foreboding, she reached the last room. Unlike other rooms, this one had no Spy Window. It had been ruled that the patient was so feeble that they wouldn't need to keep a constant eye on her. This room was special; it held the very patient on whom she had written her PhD thesis eleven years ago, the one that had propelled her into instant fame within the medical world.

Lisa's thesis, '_The Power of the Human Brain_', examined the many phenomenal things the brain could do, before going in depth into a case study. She'd spent many futile months trying to find an example, before she'd stumbled upon her favourite patient.

Des S's mind had fragmented itself into a million pieces. Lisa had only heard of the phenomenon in textbooks from sixty odd years ago. But right there, right in front of her, had been a live example.

She was still unsure about what her patient's real name was. Des S was the only thing her patient could remember. That was the amazing thing about Des; the fact that she was living proof of the instinct of self-survival.

After fourteen years with the patient, Lisa was sure that her brain had fragmented due to a need to protect some vital piece of information. All of Des's thoughts and memories had been scrambled, leaving her a feeble, dependent mess. Whatever information she needed to conceal was still there, somewhere in her mind.

She just needed to put the puzzle back together.

Lisa could usually hear some form of noise coming from Des's room. But now...nothing.  
>Almost against her will, Lisa drew out her keys and unlocked the door. Slowly, the psychiatrist pushed the door open, and tiptoed inside.<p>

"Des? It's me. I'm just checking up on –" Lisa stopped rather abruptly, staring around the empty room for a full minute before her eyes found the open window that one of the junior nurses must've forgotten to lock.

With dread, she approached the window, before looking outside.

There was a tall tree with its branches growing very close to the window. It wouldn't take much of an effort for someone to jump from the window onto the branch, and climb down from there. The hospital wasn't secured outside - lack of funding meant that they'd had to wait for a fence to be built.

Well, they were going to pay for it now, weren't they?

Lisa stayed there for quite a long time before her head cleared enough for the psychiatrist to sound the alarm. By the next morning, the entire country would be on the lookout for the escaped patient.

But the good people of Australia weren't the only ones who would be alerted. Even as the news was reported on televisions country-wide, high ranking officials around the world had already been warned. They were on the lookout now, ready to deal with this once and for all.

The war had started. It was only a matter of time before the stakes were made clear.

.

_Dun dun dun! _

_I thought it was an appropriate way to start ;)_

_**Please REVEIW!**_


	2. Wanted

_**OMG! Can I just say, that never in the history of my fics have I gotten such a huge amount of reviews, favourites and alerts for the mere first chapter! Thank you all so much! I really hope I don't let you down or anything ...**_

_**Another thing, which I shall address in full at the end, is the title of this series ;) So please don't forget to read my little A/N at the end!**_

**Disclaimer** – I do not, have not, and will not ever own Alex Rider

**Warnings** – This is a SEQUEL! (well, more like five-quel...) So PLEASE read the preceding stories – I don't think this'll do well as a stand-alone. You have been warned...

**Summary** – Unbeknownst to them, all their past adventures had been leading to this point. Because it wasn't fate that brought them together. It was something else. A secret so big, that people would do anything to make sure it stayed just that. Secret. And so came the big question; how far would you go in the name of love? SEQUEL to "Not Every Story Ends Happily Ever After"

**Chapter Two – Wanted **

Greg woke up early that morning. Which was really saying something, considering that the sun was already well up into the sky, and the orphanage already bustling with activity.

So...early for him.

The fourteen year old boy groaned, wanting to go back to sleep. But, knowing that he'd never get away with it, he forced himself up. Half an hour later, he was stumbling down the stairs, almost colliding with the twins who'd decided to choose that moment to run up.

"Good morning Gregory. Nice of you to join the conscious world."

"Shut up, Sandy," Greg mumbled, sitting down heavily in his chair.

The thirty-four year old woman just laughed, before bringing the boy his breakfast. "Here you go, grumbly-pants."

"Thanks."

Sandy sat down next to Greg, watching him slowly make his way through his plate.

"So, leaving us again, huh?" She said.

"That time of the year," Greg replied.

"Please don't talk while there's food in your mouth."

"Sorry."

He finished his breakfast in silence, while Sandy tidied up the mess that one of the younger kids had left on the table. Doing so, she uncovered that morning's paper, which she tossed over to Greg.

"Thanks," he mumbled, as three kids came racing through the room, screeching with laughter. They were in and out before he had time to blink.

"Oh look, some insane person escaped from the hospital," Greg said, summing up the two page article in one sentence.

"What?" Sandy frowned. "Why haven't I heard about this?"

"Maybe 'cause it's not your hospital?" Greg said, pointing out the name to Sandy. "Plus, you're not exactly at work to hear the news."

He stared at the picture on the front. A woman gazed back blankly, no trace of any expression on her face. Her cheeks were hollowed, her blue eyes vacant. Greg frowned.

"She looks kinda familiar," he said.

Sandy looked over his shoulder. "The two of you have similar eyes. Who knows, she could be your long lost mother. That would certainly explain a few things."

"Haha, very funny," Greg said, though with a grin. He whacked Sandy with the newspaper, before having to quickly dart out of the room to avoid retaliation.

He made his way back up to his room. As the oldest resident in the orphanage, Greg was the only one who was allowed his own room. He was pretty sure it was a gesture of pity from the staff, who knew that there was no way he'd ever be adopted.

"Greg?"

The boy turned, then looked down, to see Melinda standing by his door. "Hey Melinda."

The girl sniffed. "Is it true that you're going away?"

Greg sighed. "Come in."

Melinda was one of the newest additions to the orphanage. The girl was just six years old, and had been left on the doorstep after her parents had been jailed. So, she was dealing with abandonment issues.

"You can sit on my lap if you want," Greg said, opening his arms. Melinda climbed right in, resting her head on his shoulder.

"Why are you going away?"

"I have to, Melina. I have to go to school."

"Why do you need to go away?" Big eyes blinked up at him, and Greg sighed.

"I go to a very special school," he explained with a small smile, "It's all the way over in England! I have to get there by plane!"

"Wow, really?"

"You bet. That's why I have to go, see?"

"But..." the girl frowned, confused. "Aren't there any schools here?"

"Well, sure there are," Greg said, "That's where you go, remember?"

"Then why do you need to go to England?"

Greg was quite certain that Melinda had no clue where England actually was. Ah, children and their weak grasp on geology. "It's a very special school, one that they don't have here."

"Why's it special?"

Greg bit his lip, lowering his voice to a whisper. "Promise to keep it secret?"

Melinda gazed at him with big round eyes. "Pinky promise," she said solemnly, holding out her pinky.

Greg smiled and nodded. "Okay. See, it's very special because they teach you things they don't normally teach you in school."

"Oh." Melinda frowned. "Like what?"

"Like, how to escape from a building if it's burning," Greg said. _And how to shoot guns, and make bombs, and pick locks with your eyes closed..._

"Cool," Melinda breathed. "Can I learn that?"

"I'll teach you when I come back. But basically, if you're ever trapped in a burning building, run towards the exit really really fast."

"I'll remember that," Melinda said, nodding seriously, before lying her head on Greg's shoulder.

Greg let out a relieved breath. That could've gone either way; he very much preferred the happy non-understanding to the hysterical crying non-understanding.

"Greg? Is that why Mrs Sandy's holding a party next week?"

"Yeah – wait...what?" _I swear I told her not to host another one of those things!_

.

The entire orphanage had been decorated with "Goodbye" and "Good Luck" signs, courtesy of Sandy Phillips-Linke. There was a huge amount of party food, prepared by Sandy, other orphanage staff, and many of the orphans and WOA.

Greg had been banned from helping. He didn't really take it too well considering he hadn't wanted the party in the first place.

But now that the party was in full swing, his mood was definitely improving. Especially since Sandy had made him his own plate of that really awesome pastry stuff that he hadn't bothered learning the name of.

The only downside to the party was the re-ignition of crying kids. In particular, Melinda.

"I don't want you to go!" She wailed. The girl had yet to relinquish her hold on his leg.

"I know, and I'll miss you," Greg said, trying and failing to soothe her, "But you really need to let go of my leg. I think you're cutting off the circulation..."

That of course, made the girl tighten her hold even more.

This was the position he was in, ten minutes later, when a complete stranger walked into the orphanage and bumped into the boy.

"Excuse me, but could you –" The speaker suddenly cut off.

Greg looked up curiously, to see the man staring at him as if he were a ghost. Honestly, he was sure no-one's face was supposed to go that pale – it just wasn't healthy. Greg bit his lip, before bending down and whispering: "Melinda? Could you go find Sandy for me?"

The girl sniffed, but upon catching sight of the strange man, turned tail and fled at once.

"Er...sir? Are you alright?"

The man blinked, and shook his head. "I – I'm sorry. You just...you really...never mind."

"Greg! Are you okay? Melinda said something about – oh, hey Terry! About time you showed up."

Sandy suddenly bustled into view. She smiled, giving the man a quick kiss, before extracting the wrapped parcel he was still tightly holding.

"Sandy? You know him?" Greg asked, staring at the strange man.

"Oh, right, introductions," Sandy laughed. "Well Greg, this is Terry, my husband. Terry, this is Greg, the boy I keep talking about. See, if you'd just listened to me, you two would've been acquainted a long time ago."

"Yeah...sorry sweetheart," Terry said.

"Why did you come here, now?" Greg asked, curious.

"She forgot your present..."

"And so I asked Terry to bring it for me," Sandy grinned, handing the carefully wrapped gift over. "Here you go. Happy going away."

"Thanks Sandy...and Terry," Greg added.

"Well, I'm going to leave you two to get to bond. Be right back!" And so saying, the woman disappeared, either to refill the food or to break up the fights that would no doubt be going on.

Terry cleared his throat awkwardly. "So...uh...you're an orphan, right?"

"Yeah," Greg said. _Really smart guy..._

"D'you happen to know anything about your parents?" He asked, squatting down next to Greg so that they were on eye level.

The boy shook his head. "Why?"

"Hm? Oh, well, you just really reminded me of someone I used to know."

"Who?"

"A boy. He was a little bit older than you when I first met him. His name was Alex Rider. One of my fri – colleagues took quite a fancy to him."

Greg blinked at the rather strange mid-change in words, but didn't comment. Instead, he said: "My last name's Rider. Do you think he was related to me?"

"Who knows," Terry said. "Maybe. You do look an awful lot like him. Except the eyes. That kid didn't have coloured eyes. In fact your eyes almost look like ..."

Terry trailed off, with Greg nodding along rather absently.

"So, where're you going?" Terry asked, changing the subject.

"Hm? Oh, to England. That's where I go to school," Greg added at Terry's confused look.

"Really? Scholarship or something?" Terry asked, impressed.

"I guess. I'm not really sure; they kinda just turned up one day and told me I'd been accepted."

"You must be pretty smart then, to get noticed by someone on the other side of the hemisphere," Terry said.

"Thanks. I think," Greg said, causing Terry to laugh.

"You're welcome. Good luck with your studies."

.

_Oh, I love the irony! Hahaha! It's like a massive game of mistaken identity ;)_

_If you guys remember, I introduced Mr Gregory Rider in my side-fic __A Christmas Story.__ Ha, I told you there was info in there!_

_**Please**__** REVIEW! **_

**A/N THAT YOU MUST READ OR YOU'RE BANNED FROM MY FICS! **(Just kids about the banned part...)Okay, As you all know, I've been trying to figure out a title for this series. That kinda got sidetracked 'cause I was really busy, but now I'd like the search to continue. So far, the entries have been:

'Friendly Encounters' or 'Solitary Spies' – Suggested by **Another Harry Potter Fan**

'Desire' – Suggested by **don't worry about it**

'The Solitary World of Spies' – suggested by **Albany**

'Playing the Hero' – suggested by **Koyuki-Rune**

Personally, I'm leaning towards Playing the Hero, but please let me know which one you all like! OR, if have some other suggestions, let me know too!

The winning title shall win a prize ... most likely a one-shot/full blown story of their choice, that is dedicated to them ;)

Love Chariots99


	3. The Bank

**Disclaimer** – I do not, have not, and will not ever own Alex Rider

**Warnings** – This is a SEQUEL! (well, more like five-quel...) So PLEASE read the preceding stories – I don't think this'll do well as a stand-alone. You have been warned...

**Summary** – Unbeknownst to them, all their past adventures had been leading to this point. Because it wasn't fate that brought them together. It was something else. A secret so big, that people would do anything to make sure it stayed just that. Secret. And so came the big question; how far would you go in the name of love? SEQUEL to "Not Every Story Ends Happily Ever After"

**Chapter 3 – The Bank**

Greg arrived at London airport in the early hours of the morning, still blinking sleepily from his majorly long trip. It was thus for that reason that he didn't notice the woman making her way to him until she was helping him haul his luggage onto the trolley.

Greg blinked at her, before breaking into a smile. "Hey Mrs Jones! How was your holiday?"

"Very well thank you, Gregory," Mrs Jones smiled, "How was yours?"

The years had been kind to Mrs Jones. And while her hair had already started sprouting fine white strands, her mind remained as sharp as ever.

"It was alright. Too hot. I wish it snowed," Greg added wistfully, leading the way out of the airport.

"Whereas here, we had too much snow," Mrs Jones laughed, directing him to their personal car, "I think we should trade off."

"That'd be an awesome idea!" He grinned, loading the trunk before getting into the car. "So, bank again?"

"Yes Gregory."

"I just think that you guys really should relocate," he said innocently, "I mean, everyone knows about it!"

"Maybe," Mrs Jones conceded, turning the indicator on, "But it would be a huge logistical challenge trying to move that many agents, not to mention double that amount of sensitive information, to another secret location without being found out. No, we're much better off where we are."

The rest of the car trip passed in silence, with Greg falling asleep once more. It wasn't until Mrs Jones had pulled into the secure underground parking that he woke up with a startled jerk.

"We're here," Mrs Jones smiled. "Bring your things up as quick as you can; there's a new boy this year, and I'd like to introduce him to everyone at the same time."

"Okay."

It was really easier said than done. After all, lugging around a heavy suitcase up several flights of stairs because the lifts were broken wasn't exactly a walk in the park. By the time Greg had made it to his usual room, he'd already broken out in a sweat. Dumping his things on the floor, he hurried off to Room 301, which was where Mrs Jones usually held her start of year introductions.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologised, realising that everyone else was already there.

Mrs Jones just nodded. "Take a seat, Gregory."

There were two other boys present, James and Cameron. Though they were very friendly, both were several years older than Greg, which had often made him feel rather left out. As he sat down, he noticed the new boy standing next to Mrs Jones, doing his best to hide his nerves.

"Boys, this is Patrick. He'll be joining you in your classes this year. Patrick, why don't you sit down next to Gregory? Then we'll get started."

Patrick quickly made his way to the empty chair beside Greg, pausing only to give the boy a tentative smile which he returned.

"Okay boys. Just a couple of quick announcements before we begin the year. Firstly, there has been a change of staff. Agent Banks will now be your shooting instructor," Mrs Jones said, reading from a list of things she had made which were to be addressed.

Greg leaned over to Patrick and whispered, "We used to have this real boring Agent, but she got sent on some mission last year."

"You've just had a two month holiday," Patrick said, frowning, "Surely missions don't last _that_ long?"

Greg shrugged. "Some do. But she could just be on leave for recoup."

" – also, the Director has asked me to inform you boys that it is a danger hazard to go running around the building," Mrs Jones continued, "Many of the agents have had minor heart failures, thinking that they're about to be attacked. And no, it's not funny," she added as the four boys all sniggered.

"Since all three of you were neglecting your homework last year in favour of the 'fun stuff', we're making it mandatory for any and all academic work to be finished _before_ you go shoot targets or throw knives."

James and Cameron both groaned. Greg just rolled his eyes; he'd known that Mrs Jones would pick up on their slacking sooner or later.

"Finally, when it's lights out, _please _remain in your section of the building. We've installed newer security systems over the holidays, and no agent will be thanking you if you trigger it, because then they would all be called back," she said, before adding, "And I'm warning you that if you want to play a practical joke and set the alarm off purposely, there will be severe repercussions."

It may have been mean, but Greg had to smirk at the glare Mrs Jones sent James and Cameron who both, despite their training, failed at looking innocent.

"That will be all. Timetables will be posted on the bulletin tomorrow morning, but you have the rest of the day off. Gregory, why don't you take this time to show Patrick around?"

"Sure thing, Mrs Jones," Greg said amiably. He turned to Patrick with a grin, as the others filtered out of the room. "Hello! My name's Greg. Well, Gregory, but only Mrs Jones ever calls me that."

Patrick laughed, though there was a slightly nervous undertone. "Patrick. Most people call me Pat...except Mrs Jones."

"Yeah, I think it's her 'thing'," Greg said, leading the way out. "So, how old are you?"

Pat looked rather taken aback. "Er...fifteen. Going to turn sixteen in a couple of weeks. Why?"

"I just wanted someone closer to my age," Greg sighed exaggeratedly, "Oh well, two years older is good enough. James and Cameron are both seventeen, and they never seem to have time to hang out with me."

"Uh huh."

"Yeah. Well anyway, welcome to MI6!" Greg said. "What do you want to do? Do you want to see where you're staying? Oh, hang on, do you know where you're staying? Well, we can go to the dorms. You need to know where the bulletin is. Oh, I'll show you the Rec Room. There's a _massive_ TV there! And I have to show you the Forbidden Floor. Well, I can't really show it to you since it's forbidden...but I could tell you where it is! And we can go to the shooting range too!"

Pat looked rather overwhelmed by the fast yattering of his new friend. "Erm...okay..."

"Don't mind me," Greg laughed. "Mrs Jones says that I talk too much. I think she's right."

"I tend to talk too little," Pat offered. "But yeah, I already know where I'm staying. If you could show me this bulletin though, that'd be great."

"Okay! Follow me!" Greg said cheerfully, "We're going to have to take the long way though; the lifts wouldn't be fixed for another day, at least."

"How do you know?" Pat asked, following Greg.

"Because, that's how things work around here," he shrugged, "Don't worry though; you'll get used to it."

.

Every single law enforcement authority in the country had been notified. Each possible exit point from the large island of Australia had been flooded with photos of the escapee. Everyone was on high alert. Everyone was waiting, ready to apprehend the lanky blonde haired, sunken blue eyed, clinically insane and most possibly dangerous woman.

No-one even batted an eyelid at the bouncy red-haired woman who stepped up to the departure counter, passport at the ready.

The lady serving her smiled, and complimented her six-inch glittering black stilettos.

The security guard wolf-whistled as she sauntered past, and was rewarded with a wink.

An undercover agent posing as a cleaner offered to help her with her heavy bags.

No-one ever realised who she was, as she boarded the plane and took her seat. No-on realised that, under the dyed hair, the makeup, the rather revealing clothes, was the woman they were all looking for.

So it was that Desiree Swan escaped the country in luxury, while the rest of the law enforcement squads searched tirelessly for her on the island.

And all the while, as the flight attendants handed out meals and drinks, and pampered to their passengers' every needs, she wondered exactly how it was that she knew the woman who'd helped disguise her, knew the man who'd owed her enough to get her out of the country.

It was as if she was feeling around in the dark to turn on the light. The moment she found the switch, everything would be revealed.

But for now, she was still fumbling , blindly, unable to see the monsters that lurked in the dark, silently bidding their time.

.

_I feel like every time I mention a character from my previous stories, they're making a cameo of some sort..._

_**Please REVIEW!**_

**A/N THAT YOU MUST READ! **Okay, As you all know, I've been trying to figure out a title for this series. That kinda got sidetracked 'cause I was really busy, but now I'd like the search to continue. So far, the entries have been:

'Friendly Encounters' or 'Solitary Spies' – Suggested by **Another Harry Potter Fan**

'Desire' – Suggested by **don't worry about it**

'The Solitary World of Spies' – suggested by **Albany**

'Playing the Hero' – suggested by **Koyuki-Rune**

'Espionage Hates Lovers' – suggested by **Sapphire2309**

'The Life of a Spy' – suggested by **h i g h o n c l o u d n i n e**

'The Secret Services are Screwy' – suggested by **Dragonanzar**

I'm going to put up a poll on my user page thingy soon, so get in your suggestions quick! And the winner will get a prize ... which will probably be a story, since I have no other talents ...

Love Chariots99


	4. Mr Banks

_**Thanks for all your reviews, and for bearing with me while I get over my sickness! Here's the next chappie for you wonderful people!**_

**Disclaimer** – I do not, have not, and will not ever own Alex Rider

**Warnings** – This is a SEQUEL! (well, more like five-quel...) So PLEASE read the preceding stories – I don't think this'll do well as a stand-alone. You have been warned...

**Summary** – Unbeknownst to them, all their past adventures had been leading to this point. Because it wasn't fate that brought them together. It was something else. A secret so big, that people would do anything to make sure it stayed just that. Secret. And so came the big question; how far would you go in the name of love? SEQUEL to "Not Every Story Ends Happily Ever After"

**Chapter 4 – Mr Banks**

They were walking in silence for a while, headed for the all-important bulletin, before Greg turned to Pat with a frown. "What are you here for?"

"Hm?"

"Like, why are you here? I mean, how did MI6 find you?"

"Oh," Pat bit his lip. "Well, I...my aunt was an agent for MI6 which, I must admit, I did not know about. She went missing a couple of weeks ago; MI6 are apparently on the verge of pronouncing her dead. They turned up outside my house, told me the news...and next thing I know, I ended up here."

Greg frowned. "What about your parents?" He asked, though he thought already knew the answer.

And sure enough; "Well, they died when I was a child."

"Figures."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Pat asked, a little angrily.

"Oh, no, I didn't mean it that way," Greg said hastily, holding up his hands, "I just meant that, well, neither James, Cameron or me have parents."

Pat looked slightly mollified, and motioned for Greg to continue.

"Well, mine died when I was a baby. They were killed in a shooting," he added, feeling some need to say it. "James's mum died at childbirth, and his dad died just a few years ago. And then there's Cameron..."

"What about him?"

"Well, it's kinda a long-ish story. Okay, not really that long, just sorta confusing."

Pat nodded slowly; it was quite clear he couldn't follow any of his new friend's rambling.

"So, what happened to him is that, his dad abandoned him and his mum when he was like, five or something," Greg said, leading them down the stairs, "Then his mother remarried. Then _she_ disappeared – like literally. Poof. Gone. They couldn't find her at all."

"They being..."

"MI6," Greg said, "That's why Cameron's here. Well, no, it's a longer story than that, but here's the Bulletin!"

Pat blinked at the rather sharp change in topic, before he realised that Greg was pointing at the large pin-up board on the wall; the one next to his room.

"That's it?" he asked, unimpressed.

Greg chuckled. "I know right? But yeah, that's it. Mrs Jones usually puts up notices and stuff each day, so make sure you check it every morning otherwise you might miss out on some very vital information."

"Okay...shouldn't be too hard," Pat said, "Especially since my room's right there."

"Really? Awesome! We're like, practically neighbours!" Greg said excitedly, pointing his own room out.

"Yay?"

But Greg didn't notice the confused tone in Pat's voice. Instead, he grinned. "Come on, I'll show you the shooting range. We spend a lot of time down there so it's probably a good place to get used to."

"Shooting range..."

"Yeah. It's where we shoot guns," Greg said rather redundantly, "But sometimes someone also comes to teach us other skills. Like, sniper-aiming, or throwing knives. Usually someone from the SAS, but we've had senior agents demonstrate too."

"Right..."

"Anyway, where were we?" Greg asked, sliding down the stairwell banister and motioning for Pat to do the same. "Oh yeah, Cameron! So like I said, dad leaves, then mum leaves. Okay, so then the guy his mother had married – apparently a very cool dude – takes him to his home town. Then Cameron's _dad_ shows up again, and gets custody. Then his stepdad gets killed in a drunken bar fight or something like that. Then his dad disappears, _again_, and MI6 picked Cameron up from the foster care system."

"Huh."

"Yeah. Tough life," Greg said, wrinkling his nose at a strange smell coming out from behind a closed door. "But he's an awesome fun guy. Laughs about his past and everything. Just...whatever you do, don't get him angry. Or, if he is angry, _run_."

"Okay. Got it."

"Here we are," Greg said a while later, pushing open a heavy door with some effort, "The shooting range. Otherwise known as the basement. Oh, you have to put these on when the bell goes, otherwise you'll go deaf," he added, grabbing two earmuffs from the wall and handing one over to Pat, who nodded his thanks.

There was enough space in the shooting range for at least ten people to be practicing. Currently, there was only one, probably an agent, firing off several quick rounds before pressing a button that sounded the all clear.

Pat and Greg removed their earmuffs.

"Hey!" Greg greeted happily, "Do you mind if we have a go?"

The man turned to the two. His badge proclaimed him to be "Agent Banks", their new shooting instructor for the year. Seeing that, Greg's smile widened even more...if that was at all possible.

"You kids part of the school?" Banks asked, looking at Pat (who was the taller one, and therefore slightly easier to spot). It was Greg who answered.

"Yep! You're going to be our new teacher aren't you?"

Banks turned to Greg with a smile. That quickly vanished, and the man performed a rather sharp double take.

"Sir, are you alright?" Pat asked hesitantly, glancing down at his shorter companion.

"Um...yeah, fine," Banks shook his head. "You kids run along; you'll get your turn tomorrow." His eyes never left Greg, even as the younger boy was dragged out by Pat.

"What was that all about," Pat asked as soon as they were outside the shooting range.

"What do you mean?" Greg asked, leading them up the stairs.

"That man was staring at you like...like you're a ghost or something!"

"Yeah, I get that all the time," Greg laughed, "James and Cameron reckon it's 'cause I'm famous."

Pat blinked. "_Are_ you famous?"

Greg snorted. "Yeah right. Do I look famous to you?"

.

It was dark. Not even the moon was able to penetrate the thick fog that surrounded the fortress-like island.

The rhythmic clicking of shoes on stone was the only thing that alerted the prisoner to the new arrival. Seconds later, Michaelis Menten appeared outside the small cell, smirking like there was no tomorrow.

"Rider. I see they've been neglecting your feed. Remind me to give those guards a pay rise," he sneered.

Alex didn't even bother to open his eyes.

"Hm, seems like we missed your birthday, " Menten went on. "Oh well, here's a belated present for you."

There was the sound of something colliding with the hard floor of his cell. It was only once the clicking of Menten's shoes had faded from hearing that Alex slowly opened his eyes.

Lying near his hand was a rolled-up newspaper.

Blinking in confusion, Alex forced his weak body to move, unrolling the newspaper with a substantial amount of effort. Upon seeing the picture on the front, his eyebrows lifted a fraction of an inch in surprise.

Hope, relief, and so many other emotions flooded his chest, warming his body against the cold.

Despite the hollowed out cheeks and the vacant, unseeing expression, he instantly recognised the large picture on the front page. After all, there was no mistaking those crystal blue eyes.

.

_Alex! Escape, dammit!_

_**Please REVIEW! Or karma will get you...**_

**A/N THAT YOU MUST READ! **The titles for this series has officially become a poll on my page. Please go and vote! The winning title shall win a prize ... most likely a one-shot/full blown story of their choice, that is dedicated to them, since that's pretty much my only talent...

'Friendly Encounters' or 'Solitary Spies' – Suggested by **Another Harry Potter Fan**

'Desire' – Suggested by **don't worry about it**

'The Solitary World of Spies' – suggested by **Albany**

'Playing the Hero' – suggested by **Koyuki-Rune**

'Espionage Hates Lovers' – suggested by **Sapphire2309**

'The Life of a Spy' – suggested by **h i g h o n c l o u d n i n e**

'The Secret Services are Screwy' – suggested by **Dragonanzar**

Personally, I'm leaning towards Playing the Hero, but please let me know which one you all like!

Love Chariots99


	5. Exploring

**Hey all! Just a quick message; someone asked me (and I'm really sorry, but I can't remember who) whether the whole thing would be in Greg's POV. The short answer is: no. The long answer is: once I've finished establishing the current circumstances (ie – the whole spy school and whatnot), the POV **_**should**_** be permanently from Alex's perspective ;)**

**Disclaimer** – I do not, have not, and will not ever own Alex Rider

**Warnings** – This is a SEQUEL! (well, more like five-quel...) So PLEASE read the preceding stories – I don't think this'll do well as a stand-alone. You have been warned...

**Summary** – Unbeknownst to them, all their past adventures had been leading to this point. Because it wasn't fate that brought them together. It was something else. A secret so big, that people would do anything to make sure it stayed just that. Secret. And so came the big question; how far would you go in the name of love? SEQUEL to "Not Every Story Ends Happily Ever After"

**Chapter 5 – Exploring**

The four boys were woken up at the crack of dawn by a loud, shrill whistle. Pat was the only one startled by the ear-piercing sound; the other boys had long since learnt to sleep with earplugs.

A quick glance at the bulletin told the boys that they would be studying maths and science that morning. Their private tutor, some lady whose husband worked for MI6, gave each of them their personalised subject outlines for the year, before proceeding to drill them all on equations appropriate to their own level.

By lunchtime, Pat was completely overwhelmed. It really didn't help his self esteem at all when he learnt that Greg would be working on the same material as him, despite the other kid being two years younger. But on the bright side, he at least had someone to ask when he was stuck.

They would be having their first shooting lesson that afternoon. This was admittedly the thing Pat had looked forwards to the most – his aunt had always been rather persistent in taking him to shooting ranges, something he'd never understood until a few months ago. Nonetheless, this meant that he would actually be able to keep up with the other boys.

Or so he thought, until they walked into the basement to find four pieces of material laid out above four disassembled hand pistols.

"Hello boys," Agent Banks greeted stepping out of the shadows, "I'm sure Mrs Jones has informed you all that I'll be taking over your instruction until Agent Garnett returns. We'll get right down to it, shall we? Choose one of the stations; doesn't matter which one, they're all the same."

Pat couldn't help but notice that Agent Banks continuously glanced at Greg with a frown, as if the man was trying to figure out something very important. But then, all thoughts flew from his mind when he realised what the material was for.

"Blindfold?" He accidentally spat. "I can't do that!"

Agent Banks frowned at him. "If the other boys can, then so can you."

"Sir, I don't think he means it that way," James said, helping Cameron blindfold himself, "He's new."

Banks' expression cleared. "Oh, right! Yes, Mrs Jones did mention something about that. Sorry kid, didn't mean to put you on the spot. Leave the blindfold off. Do you know how to assemble a gun?"

Pat nodded. "Not very well, but my aunt did teach me."

"Okay, why don't you practice that, okay? Everyone else, blindfold yourselves – oh, good, you've already done that," Banks said, causing some laughter amongst the boys. "Okay then. On my mark, put your earmuffs on, assemble your weapons, empty the clip at the targets, disassemble your weapons –"

"Remove our blindfolds and step away from our stations," Cameron finished.

"And remember, keep your earmuffs on!" James added, grinning.

"We've done this before," Greg said, looking in the direction where he'd last heard Banks.

The man laughed. "Okay then, let's go."

He pressed a button that turned on the 'Shooting in Progress' light, before blowing his whistle. At once, there was a flurry of activity.

Pat watched in awe as the other three boys expertly assembled their respective guns. For a moment, he forgot about his own, until Agent Banks tossed him a look. Blushing, he bent down and began to clumsily assemble his own weapon.

From the corner of his eye, there was a sudden movement as one of the boys raised his weapon. Looking up, Pat was rather surprised to see Greg be the first to shoot. The youngest boy emptied his clip in record time; his hands were a blur as he disassembled his gun.

Greg removed his blindfold, shooting Pat a grin as he stepped away from his station. Pat gave him a thumbs up, impressed, before returning to his own weapon.

Soon enough, Agent Banks sounded the all clear, and gathered the boys around him.

"That was excellent," he said, "Greg, very well done. Where'd you learn to shoot like that?"

Greg blushed, but Cameron beat him to the answer.

"He's just talented like that, sir," he said.

"And modest, so he'll never rub it in your face," James added.

"It must be the genes," Cameron finished with a grin.

"Nonetheless, it was very well done. It's been years since I've seen anyone shoot as well as you."

Greg's blush deepened at the compliment, and Banks went on to outline what areas they would individually focus on, and what they would cover that year. Despite barely knowing the basics, Pat rather enjoyed that shooting class, something which he mentioned to Greg after dinner.

"Do you want to go practice then?" Greg asked.

"Are we allowed to?"

Greg snorted. "Of course! We didn't get any homework today, so I bet that's where James and Cameron are too. Come on, I'll help you."

They entered the elevator, which had thankfully been fixed. Greg was about to press the button for the basement when a bright red one caught Pat's eye.

"What's on that floor?" He asked, pointing.

"Hm? Oh, that's Mr Blunt's office," Greg said, "You want to see it?"

He didn't let Pat answer, just pressed the button.

"Are we even allowed on this floor?" Pat asked as Greg led him out of the elevator, "I mean, he is the Director, isn't he? Isn't there some rule that says we can't be on the same floor as him?"

"No, where did you get that idea?" Greg asked, "No, there's only one place in this entire building we can't go in, and that's through that door."

Pat looked at where Greg was pointing. At first glance, the door appeared to be rather nondescript. But upon closer inspection, one could see faint signs of heavily detailed security place upon the door.

His damn, trouble making curiosity jumped.

"What's behind it?"

"Who knows," Greg shrugged, not looking the least bit curious. "But Mr Blunt's office is right there."

"Uh-huh...what would happen if we went through that forbidden door?" Pat asked.

"We'd probably get like a time out or something," Greg said. "Why? You're not actually thinking of..."

"Oh yeah," Pat smirked

"We'll get caught!" Greg hissed. "Caught, and punished, and I don't even want to know what else!"

"What's life without a bit of risk?" Pat asked, glancing around to make sure that the corridor was still empty. "Come on Greg, where's your sense of adventure."

"I left it in Australia," said Greg, deadpanned.

Pat just laughed. "Mate, there's no-one around. We won't get caught. And even if we do, at least we'll know we've tried."

Without waiting for a response from his lip chewing friend, Pat took a tentative step towards the door. He seemed to be in luck; whoever had last used the room hadn't locked the door properly, and all the high-tech security systems remained inactivated.

The only thing standing between him and the room was a locked door of the most basic kind.

"This is going to be _so_ easy," Pat smirked, pulling out a set of lock-picking tools his aunt had gifted to him two Christmases ago.

"Patrick!" Greg hissed warningly. "Don't do it!"

"Just relax, before you give yourself an aneurism," Pat laughed.

Carefully, a single thin metal tool was inserted into the lock, closely followed by a second. Pat twisted both around, gently, caringly; he could feel the inner mechanisms of the lock give way at his soft touch.

One click.

Two clicks.

Three clicks.

And the door swung opened.

Pat grinned in triumph, turning to face Greg who was staring with his mouth hanging loose.

"Where did you learn to pick locks?" He demanded.

"I told you my aunt's a spy," Pat grinned. "She taught me a lot of stuff. Now come on!"

Pat ended up having to drag Greg in, but once the two boys stepped over the threshold they both stopped in shock.

The room itself was rather small, barely large enough for the two to stand comfortably in. But all four sides of the room were lined from floor to ceiling with alphabetically arranged files, each of varying thickness, each in a creamy folder with colour coded stickers on the side.

"There must be thousands of them!" Greg breathed, moving towards the closest wall, all thoughts of punishment and wrongdoing gone. "What are they?"

Pat pulled one of the files out. "This one seems to be the profile of an agent... an MI6 agent...bloody hell! Greg, these must be the files of every single agent MI6 ever employed!"

"Yeah." Greg ran his eyes over the labels. _Ravinde ... Rescle ... Rhindel ... _

_...Rider._

Upon registering that name, Greg jerked as if an electric current had been passed through his body. _Why on earth would MI6 have a file on him?_

Reaching out, he carefully pulled the surprisingly thick file from its place amongst the others. The first page had his photo, along with a ridiculously long history that he didn't even bother to read. The others were titled with strange things like _Mission Stormbreaker_ and _Point Blanc Academy_. It wasn't until he reached one with _Skeleton Key_ typed across the top that he realised it wasn't his file at all.

Quickly, he flipped back to the first page. It had his picture, but the name printed next to it read: _Alex J Rider_.

"Alex Rider," whispered Greg.

"Hm?"

"Oh, nothing," Greg smiled at Pat, who went back to his own exploration of the files.

Greg turned, scrutinising the picture. And it was only then that he realised it wasn't actually him. The boy in the picture was a little older, with scruffier hair, higher cheekbones and a straighter nose. And he didn't have the blue eyes Greg did; his were much darker, much wiser, and much more haunted. But still, their similarity was so uncanny, Greg started wondering whether he might've had a twin.

_Alex Rider _... that name was so familiar! But where had he heard it –?

"Hey! You kids aren't allowed in there!"

Greg snapped up to see an agent storming angrily towards them. Behind him, he heard Pat's muffled "Shit" as they both quickly stuffed their respective files back onto the shelf and prayed that the agent didn't notice.

"Come on," the man said, grabbing them both by the scruffs of their necks and hauling them out the door, "We're going to pay a little visit to the Director's office. See what he has to say."

But neither the agent nor Pat noticed the piece of paper Greg had quietly stuffed into his pocket.

.

NCIS Special Agent Ziva David was having the most boring day she could've ever imagined having. In the good ol' days, when she'd been but a mere Mossad liaison, she would've at least had other Mossad agents she could talk to, or some mission her father may have asked for her view on. But after having renounced Mossad and become a full NCIS agent, not to mention an American citizen to boot, she'd barely had any contact from the Mossad at all.

In fact, she was quite certain the last contact had been them informing her that if she were to ever set foot in Israel again, she would be apprehended and charged with treason. Such a nice, friendly bunch of people.

Ziva groaned, leaning back in her seat. Not even the hour she'd spent making fun of McGee and his latest computer geek game had made the day more tolerable.

Heck, not even the thrill of threatening Tony ... _twice_ ... had alleviated the sheer boredom she was experiencing.

"Alright there, Ziva?" Tony asked from his desk opposite hers.

Ziva responded with a sullen: "What do you think?"

"Used to be you'd go over to the shooting yard," Tony said, putting his feet up on his table after making sure that Gibbs wasn't around.

"Things change."

"And yet, so much stays the same."

He was probably referring to their unchanged team. Honestly, it was nothing short of a miracle that they'd all survived the past fourteen years – no deaths, no resignations (though at one point, Gibbs had come rather close).

"Life is strange that way," Ziva mused.

It was about to get even stranger. For at that very moment, a notification popped onto her computer screen, stating that she'd received a new email. From her father.

_Ziva._

_Desiree Swan has escaped. We know you've had previous contact with her. Should she try to contact you, you will be expected to apprehend and turn her in no matter what the cost. _

_Do not fail._

It was short, abrupt and straight to the point. She'd expected nothing less from the Director of the Mossad.

"You alright?"

"Hm?" Ziva looked up.

"You look like you've seen a ghost or something," Tony said with a worried frown.

"Oh no, I'm fine," Ziva smiled. Or at least, attempted to smile. "You know, I think I might just head back home. If anything new comes up –"

"– Which it probably won't –"

"– give me a call," she finished, ignoring the interruption as she grabbed her bag.

"Alright. I'm going to go find McElf-Lord," Tony said, stretching his back. "Maybe he'll have something interesting to tell me."

Ziva took much less time than the average person to arrive home – the years had done nothing to mellow her over-enthusiastic driving skills. She threw herself onto her couch with a tub of ice-cream, the TV on some dramatic soap opera, fully intending to relax, when someone knocked softly on her door.

She frowned. It definitely wasn't anyone she knew. Tony would've just burst in, McGee would've called ahead of time. Abby would've given her a shout-out, rather than knock. Ducky never visited. And Gibbs never turned up unannounced unless something really drastic had happened. In which case she should've at least gotten an urgent phone call.

'Who is it?" She called.

The only answer she received was another set of knocks.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming,' she grumbled to herself, making her way to the door; though not before grabbing her gun off the table and taking it off safety. She may not be Mossad anymore, but some habits – such as paranoia – never died.

Though they did get muffled with age and disuse. Which was just as well, as it prevented Ziva from shooting the lost-looking person standing outside her door out of sheer shock.

"D – Dessi?" she whispered.

Crystal blue eyes snapped up to hers, but there was no familiar spark of recognition within their depths.

"I need help," said Desiree. Her voice was hoarse, as if she wasn't used to talking. And judging from the way her eyes darted around in confusion, she clearly had no clue where she was or how she got there.

"I need to remember who I am."

.

_Well, that was probably one of the longest chapters I've written in a while._

_Bit of self-promotion; I've started a new set of drabbles for the HP fandom titled 'Forever'. Check them out!_

_Oh, and don't forget to vote for your fave title for this series!_

**And please REVIEW! **

_Love Chariots99_


	6. Forgotten

_**Thanks so much for all your lovely reviews! This chapter...well, I won't ruin it now ;)**_

**Disclaimer** – I do not, have not, and will not ever own Alex Rider

**Warnings** – This is a SEQUEL! (well, more like five-quel...) So PLEASE read the preceding stories – I don't think this'll do well as a stand-alone. You have been warned...

**Summary** – Unbeknownst to them, all their past adventures had been leading to this point. Because it wasn't fate that brought them together. It was something else. A secret so big, that people would do anything to make sure it stayed just that. Secret. And so came the big question; how far would you go in the name of love? SEQUEL to "Not Every Story Ends Happily Ever After"

**Chapter 6 – Forgotten**

Ziva sat and stared at Desiree, who currently appeared as if she was asleep. Which was a very good thing, as she was sure the amount of staring she was currently doing bordered on social inappropriateness. But she just couldn't help it.

When a knock sounded at her door, she was up so fast she thought she might've sprained something. Flinging the door open, she saw the very worried Gibbs who'd driven over as fast as he could.

"Where is she?" he asked.

Wordlessly, she pointed over to the couch. Gibbs nodded, before dragging Ziva out into the corridor and lowering his voice.

"You haven't told them, have you?"

"I have restrained myself," she responded coolly.

"And will you?"

"What do you think?"

He gave her a long, searching look before nodding and letting her go. Silently he went inside, giving Ziva a few moments to compose herself. Finally, she too re-entered her apartment, locking the door behind her, before standing awkwardly off to one side, unsure of what to do.

Noticing this, Gibbs gave her a tired smile. "Coffee?"

"Oh yeah, sure," said Ziva, grateful. She went into her kitchen, leaving Gibbs alone with Dessi as she bustled around. Probably under the impression that she could no longer hear them, Gibbs began speaking.

"You can wake up now – I know you're not asleep."

Ziva started as Dessi's soft voice drifted through her apartment. "I wish I were."

Gibbs hummed softly. "There are times when dreams better reality."

The kettle was quickly filled and set to boil.

"Who are you?" asked Dessi. Ziva had to wince at how _different_ she sounded; so unsure, so frightened.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs," replied her boss, ever so confident, "and you?"

"I – I'm not sure. That's why I came here ..."

"Do you know where you are?"

"No," whispered Dessi, "but I know she can help."

"Ziva?"

There was a pause, where Desiree had probably shrugged her shoulders, if Gibbs' sigh was anything to go by.

"Do you remember anything?" said Gibbs, slightly exasperated.

"You're not the first to ask me that."

"I'm not?"

"No."

Ziva moved slightly to the side so that she was now able to see the two lone figures on her couch through a crack in her door.

"The people in the hospital always asked me. Every day. As if I'd suddenly remember," said Dessi, her voice defeated.

"The brain is rather remarkable," said Gibbs, leaning back into the couch. "I suppose yours wouldn't want to remember the murder."

"Murder?"

Gibbs tilted his head, expression grim. "You killed someone, Desiree. That's why they put you in an asylum."

"K – killed? Me?"

"I've worked in this field for a long time, and I must say I've yet to understand your motive. Did you think he ruined your life? Was it because of some argument?"

Ziva almost felt bad as she watched the trembles running along Dessi's shoulders.

"But ... I don't remember _killing_," whispered Dessi.

"You don't remember your own name," said Gibbs gently.

The silence followed was so loud it hurt Ziva's ears. Unable to take it any longer, she quickly finished making the coffee, before bringing out three steaming cups. The coffee was extra strong, much stronger than she normally had it – but she had a feeling she'd need the boost.

"Thanks," said Gibbs, taking a sip of his. Though he tried to hide it, Ziva easily caught the look of disgust that came over his face at the less-than-perfect nature of the coffee as he put it down. "I take it you were listening?"

"Of course."

"Do you have any of the old newspapers still?"

He didn't need to specify; they both knew which newspapers he was referring to. Nodding, Ziva got out of her seat once more, paying a visit to her closet where she kept the stack of newspapers, yellowed with age and full of holes from the various critters lurking about.

"Here," she said, dumping the pile onto the coffee table and causing an eruption of dust.

Gibbs nodded his thanks before taking the top newspaper and passing it to Dessi as proof. It was an edition from fourteen years ago. It was the first time anyone in America had heard the news; within twelve hours of its release it had made headlines, splashed across the front page of almost every major newspaper, becoming the most talked about piece of news that night.

_**Young Love Comes To A Tragic End – Australian Girl Turned Murderer, Body Yet To Be Found**_

_**Murderer to Stand for Trial – Claims Of Mental Instability**_

When the newspapers had learnt about the orphaned child, they'd been thrown into an even greater frenzy of gossip and rumours.

_**Child of Murderer to Grow Up In Orphanage**_

_**Killer Mother, Dead Father – an Orphan's Miraculous Escape from His Mother's Murderous Wrath**_

There had been some controversy too.

_**Murderer Innocent? **_

_**Claims of "Lack of Convicting Evidence" by Civilians and Detectives**_

Ziva quite clearly remembered the claims that the young couple had been done wrong, that they'd clearly seen the supposed murder leave the house that morning and not return. Several detectives had also claimed their case to be declared closed well before they'd exhausted all their options. But the media had only this to say:

_**Cold Case, or Attention Seeking Gossip?**_

The final newspaper, one which was much more worn than the others, having been passed around their NCIS bullpen several times the morning it came out, read:

_**Murderer Receives Life Behind Bars, To Be Served In Mental Asylum After Proven Mental Instability and Memory Lapse By Respected Doctor**_

"You do not remember any of this?" Ziva asked.

Dessi just shook her head, shaking as she took in the sight of her supposed crimes laid out in front of her in black and white.

"I – I don't ..." Dessi gently traced the word "orphan" with a finger.

Correctly interpreting her hesitance, Gibbs said softly, "You had a son."

"His name is Gregory," added Ziva.

"Is he still alive?"

"As far as we know," Gibbs nodded gravely. He paused, before adding in an almost hopeful tone, "You really don't remember?"

"Not a thing."

"Yet they say love surpasses all ..." Gibbs trailed off.

"I think we are missing something," said Ziva grimly.

An idea suddenly came to her, no doubt borne on the back of one of the many articles she'd read about memory-loss, though she wasn't sure how good an idea it was. Gibbs however, seemed to know exactly what her idea was after a single glance, for he gave a nod of approval. Then again, he did teach them all the art of communicating with their eyes.

Getting out of her seat, Ziva bounded to her bedroom with renewed energy, her heart increasing speed as a surge of hope rushed through her veins. She returned with a single photo album, and began feverishly flipping through the pages as she squeezed herself between Gibbs and Dessi.

"Here!" Ziva said, all but throwing the album into a startled Dessi's lap. "Please, look at it!"

Blank blue eyes tossed her a confused look, but nonetheless Desiree complied. Ziva held her breath as Dessi scanned the photo in front of her – one of Gregory only a few hours after he'd been born – without any sign of recognition. Quickly, Ziva turned the page, which showed their entire alliance – AIS, MI6, Mosaad, and NCIS. Still nothing. So she turned the page again, and again. And again. Until suddenly –

"Alex?"

And those crystal blue eyes filled with an understanding and knowledge that had been lost from their depths for almost a decade and a half.

.

It was the dead of night. Nothing seemed to penetrate the darkness, not the moon, not the stars, and most definitely not the feeble lights used by the guards around the island. A thick fog had arisen, surrounding the complex, putting the sentries on edge as they jumped at each shadow, froze at each whisper of the wind.

They knew that night would not end well for them.

They had read the omens right.

The second round of guards left their stations in the dungeons, ready to rest for the night. As usual, they'd left half an hour too early, not bothering to wait for the third round of guards to arrive; they'd grown complacent over the years, convinced that the single prisoner on the island could not pass them.

The security officer in the surveillance room had long since fallen asleep. On the flickering screen in front of his dozing head, the lone prisoner slowly opened his eyes.

Within their dark brown depths flooded a determination that hadn't been there for a decade and a half. Alex Rider would escape that night, even if it killed him.

_Twenty nine minutes..._

Slowly, mindful of the fact that he was too weak, that it'd been too long since his body had endured anything more strenuous than breathing, Alex ever so carefully unfolded himself from the prison floor and stood. His hand shot out to steady himself as he swayed, he's eyes shut against the sudden bout of dizziness.

Gritting his teeth, he took one tentative step forward.

And another.

And another.

And soon, he'd reached the metal bars of the prison door. It was locked, of course. But the guards had been lax; no one had even bothered to trigger the alarm anymore, so sure that the prisoner wouldn't even have the strength to _think_ about escaping.

From within the folds of his ... well, rags, Alex drew out a long, thin piece of metal. He had pulled it out from under his own skin several months ago, after some of the guards had decided to 'have some fun'. It seemed rather ironic that they would supply him with the one thing he needed to break out.

With skeletal hands that had miraculously lost none of their skill, he carefully moulded the piece of metal, before reaching around and inserting it into the lock. He'd never been any good at picking locks; it had been something his friends had once teased him for, all those years ago. That was until Rose had helped him out in return for his helping her to actually aim a gun.

A ghost of a smile spread over his lips as he heard the soft '_click_' of the lock. He only needed to give the door a gentle push before the entire thing slide sideways, and he was free.

Adrenalin, the likes of which he hadn't felt for years, flooded his body, racing through his veins, setting his limbs on fire.

He felt _alive_.

_Twenty-three minutes._

Alex crept through the deserted dungeons, before reaching a flight of stairs. Hoping that that was the way out, he forced his body up those stairs, the adrenalin masking any drain in energy he would've otherwise felt.

There was a door at the top. After pressing his ear to it and listening carefully to make sure there was no one on the other side, he threw the door open and stepped out.

_Seventeen minutes_.

And suddenly, fresh salty air hit his face, almost throwing him off track. Blood rushed wildly in his ears. He'd done it. He was almost _free_. The only thing that stood between him and that freedom was the wild expanse of water, dark and churning and ready to swallow anything that dared cross its depths.

But he'd worry about that in a while. For now, he stood panting, head raised towards the dark skies. The night wind blew through his hair, caressing his face, swirling around his body as he savoured that moment.

_Eleven minutes._

There was a newspaper clipping in his hand, slightly crumpled. He'd held onto it through the entire escape. But now, faced with his next task, he would have to let it go.

Carefully, Alex smoothed out the uneven clipping he'd ripped from the newspaper thrown ever-so-casually into his cell, gazing into the blank face and those crystal blue eyes for what felt like an eternity.

Soon, hopefully, they would all be reunited.

_Eight minutes_.

The newspaper article fluttered gently to the ground.

It was now or never. Alex took in a deep breath. Surely whatever was ahead couldn't be worse than what he was leaving behind. But the water looked so deadly...

_Six minutes_.

And Alex jumped. Straight off the cliff he'd been standing on, plummeting down, down, down until he dropped into the churning waves below.

With powerful kicks that belied his starved, skeletal frame, he began the long swim away from the island. He had no clue which direction he was headed in. The only destination in mind was '_away...away...away...'_

By the time the third round of guards arrived for their shift, Alex was long gone. The alarm sounded six minutes too late. Even as bright fog lights flooded the island, the guards all knew that their search would be in vain.

For they had forgotten.

They had forgotten that the beaten and starved prisoner on their island had once been the world's greatest and most feared spies, rivalling only perhaps the deadly assassins trained by Scorpia and the Mossad.

That night, they would pay the price for their lapse.

.

_Go Alex, go Alex! Woot you escaped!_

_Don't forget to __**vote**__ for your favourite series title on my front page poll thingy!_

_**Please REVEIW! **__I really wanted this chapter to be perfect, and would really appreciate you guys letting me know whether my hours of corrections paid off ;)_

_And check out my HP drabbles: __Forever__!_

_Love Chariots99_


	7. Lockdown

_Hm...not my usual updating time..._

_To each and every single one of my reviewers, I thank you all from the bottom of my heart. Go grab yourselves a cookie; you deserved it ;)_

**Disclaimer** – I do not, have not, and will not ever own Alex Rider

**Warnings** – This is a SEQUEL! (well, more like five-quel...) So PLEASE read the preceding stories – I don't think this'll do well as a stand-alone. You have been warned...

**Summary** – Unbeknownst to them, all their past adventures had been leading to this point. Because it wasn't fate that brought them together. It was something else. A secret so big, that people would do anything to make sure it stayed just that. Secret. And so came the big question; how far would you go in the name of love? SEQUEL to "Not Every Story Ends Happily Ever After"

**Chapter 7 – Lockdown**

Greg sighed for what had to be the eighteenth time that minute. He was bored. He was beyond bored. In fact, he was so bored he would've preferred to do homework, which in itself was boring. But that was beside the point.

After being caught breaking into the Secret Room, and dragged to the Director's office, both he and Pat had been placed in lockdown. This basically meant they'd been locked in their own rooms since the Incident with no form of entertainment, and would only be let out at dinner during which they would also have to let the Director know that they'd learnt their lesson and would not repeat their crime.

Hence the reason why he was currently oh so very bored.

Greg sighed again, turning onto his side from his stretched out position on his bed. And that was when he heard the crunch of paper being squashed under his leg.

Sitting bolt upright, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the sheaf of paper he'd taken from 'Alex Rider's' file. In all the excitement, being told off by the Director, and his subsequent punishment and boredom, he'd completely forgotten he even had the little summary of that agent's life.

Smoothing out the paper, he once again looked upon the face that was so similar to his own.

"Alex John Rider," he read out to himself. The boy's – or well, he'd probably be a man now – birth date followed, along with his place of birth. "Father: John Rider – MI6 agent ... Current status: deceased."

His eyes quickly scanned the rest of the page. Phrases jumped out, like:

_Mother: Helen Rider, born Helen Beckett. Nurse specialising in radiology ... Current status: deceased._

_Only known relative: Ian Rider ... MI6 agent ... Current status: deceased._

_Godfather: Anthony Sean Howell ... Ash ... Ex-MI6 agent, ASIS agent ... Current status: deceased._

Greg sat back heavily. Whoever this 'Alex' guy was, he had had it tough.

There was a niggling feeling at the back of his mind, like he'd known this person, or at least heard their name before. But try as he might, he just couldn't place where ...

"'Alex Rider is known to be fluent in French, Spanish and German. He appears to understand basic Italian, and possibly Japanese. Alex is athletically talented, being skilled in scuba diving, mountain climbing, hiking, rifle shooting, surfing, snowboarding, tennis, soccer, basketball, BASE jumping, kayaking and perhaps other unknown skills. He has obtained a black belt in Karate, and has on many occasions successfully defended himself from other more skilled fighters'," Greg read, before letting out a low whistle, awed.

If this 'Alex Rider' was their teacher, he was certain he'd pay much more attention in his classes.

_It's strange_, Greg thought, looking back at the picture of Agent Rider, _We both look so much alike. Both our last names are 'Rider'. If it weren't for the fact that this _Alex_ had been born almost thirty-five years ago, I'd have thought that we were long lost brothers or something._

.

Desiree Swan sat in stony silence, a cup of untouched hot chocolate cradled in her hands.

_Alex_.

How could she have ever forgotten? The boy who'd made her laugh, the boy who'd made her cry ... the father of the child she'd also forgotten.

And she had killed him?

Something wasn't right. She'd ended several lives during her time serving the AIS, but the laughing boy in the photo Ziva had shown her was not one of the flames she remembered putting out. So why did they all think her a murderer?

And there was something else too. Something she knew she was forgetting ... but what?

"We haven't poisoned it, you know."

Startled from her trance, Dessi looked up to see Gibbs gesturing towards the hot chocolate.

"Oh, yeah, I know," said Dessi, taking a sip before putting it down rather quickly, barely repressing her cringe at how sweet the damn thing was.

"Not used to the sugar, huh?" said Gibbs.

"Guess not."

It was the dead of night. Ziva could be heard snoring steadily from the next room, having gone to bed several hours ago after falling asleep on her feet and almost burning the apartment down.

"You can go, if you want," said Dessi, "I don't need a babysitter."

Gibbs shook his head, but didn't answer. Instead, he stared at her appraisingly, searching for answers she didn't have. Finally, when she could no longer take the silence, she snapped: "What?"

"Do you remember anything about your mother?"

Of all the things Gibbs could've said, that was the last one Dessi was expecting.

"My mother? No I – she left me. On –"

"The freeway," said Gibbs gravely. "They released your history when you were accused of ... well ... you know."

"If you know, then why ask?"

He didn't answer the question. Instead, he said, "Your mother was a spy. For the AIS."

"I know," said Dessi. "Anne and Red were both –"

"No, I don't mean your foster mum. I meant your biological one," said Gibbs.

Dessi was taken aback. "Wha – how?"

Gibbs shrugged. "There was a girl I knew once in my youth. Long story short, not one of my most pleasant flings."

"What makes you think she was my mother?"

"Accent's the same as yours. Australian," he added, when she opened her mouth to protest. "Blonde hair, though I suppose that's not really saying much. But she had brilliant blue eyes. Like crystal."

Dessi's own eyes widened in understanding. "You don't think ..."

"I do, actually," said Gibbs. "I know it's not much to go on, and it's probably a huge leap, but I've just got a gut feeling. And, well, most of the times my suspicions turn out correct."

Not bothering to react to his slight boast, Dessi sank back into the couch, letting out a long breath of air. If what he said was true ... it didn't matter if it wasn't. After all these years, here was finally a fresh lead on the cold trail. Maybe, just maybe, she'd finally be able to track down her parentage.

"Surprising how things turn out, isn't it?" said Gibbs, unblinkingly watching her reaction.

"How long?"

"I suspected it from the moment I met you. There's no mistaking those eyes."

.

The years had passed so quickly. And with the years had come the change that was inevitable in the flow of time. People aged. The faces that had once been so familiar were gone, buried under layers of accumulated stress and experience.

And yet, the bank remained. Unchanged. Like death, immortalised by life.

An aging Director Alan Blunt sat behind his imposing table, glasses perched on the tip of his nose. Time had perhaps somewhat mellowed his stern look (though there were several who would disagree).

But no amount of time would ever be able to extinguish the ever present glint in his eyes, the one that Mrs Jones had long since understood to mean he'd once again worked out how to manipulate someone, or take advantage of a situation.

She had a half-mind to walk out of their private meeting right then. But unfortunately, being Deputy meant having to put up with Blunt's presence, and so it was with great trepidation that she voiced aloud her queries.

"What do you plan on doing with Patrick Samuels?" Mrs Jones asked.

Mr Blunt sighed. "Mr Samuels is very gifted; his ability to break through the lock the way he did clearly shows his talent. But unfortunately, he is much too inexperienced, much too untrained. He will have to wait."

"And – and the Rider boy?" Mrs Jones asked almost hesitantly. She'd always had a soft spot for Alex Rider, one which, in his absence, had somehow been transferred onto his son.

"I must confess myself to be rather disappointed," said Mr Blunt, shaking his head slowly. "He had to be talked into breaking into that room. Even after I had the alarms disabled, even after I gave those warnings."

"He was taught to carefully heed warnings, especially from the Director," Mrs Jones said, quick to come to the boy's defence.

"His father would've paid those warnings no attention," Mr Blunt retorted. And for all it seemed like an insult, there was a flash of approval that crossed those cold eyes as he spoke. "His father had the proper amount of curiosity to keep him alive."

The Director fell into a heavy silence, one which Mrs Jones was almost afraid to break. But in the end, she did, because the alternative would have been to wait until whatever scheme Mr Blunt had thought of was already put into effect. And by then, it would've been too late to even attempt to dissuade the man from his goal.

"So...? What do you plan on doing?"

Mr Blunt cocked his head slightly. "There is no denying the talent he has. Talent which I haven't seen since his father - the boy certainly inherited that perfectly well. Unfortunately, curiosity doesn't seem to be something those two passed down ..."

"That's not going to stop you, is it?"

"No. It is time."

.

_Hm...I wonder if anyone has figured out the secret? No? Well, you'll have to wait a while longer – the reveal I'm planning will take place when everyone's back together again, just 'cause I want it to be that epic ;)_

_Of course, I may lose my patience and accidently blurt it out...but I'm trying to filter through little pieces of info so that when I do reveal, you'll all be like "I should have seen this coming..."_

_In case you were wondering, Alex is still swimming. 'Cause the island is quite a while away from shore. But don't worry, the waves are going to be huge this week ;)_

_Oh by the way, "Playing the Hero" is so far in the lead! Don't forget to vote for your favourite title! I'll close the poll in one or two chapters' time, so get in quick!_

**Please REVIEW!**

_Love Chariots99_


	8. My Father's Footsteps

_I'm so sorry I haven't updated in so long! And thank you so much to all my reviewers – this chapter is dedicated to you all :)_

**Disclaimer** – I do not, have not, and will not ever own Alex Rider

**Warnings** – This is a SEQUEL! (well, more like five-quel...) So PLEASE read the preceding stories – I don't think this'll do well as a stand-alone. You have been warned...

**Summary** – Unbeknownst to them, all their past adventures had been leading to this point. Because it wasn't fate that brought them together. It was something else. A secret so big, that people would do anything to make sure it stayed just that. Secret. And so came the big question; how far would you go in the name of love? SEQUEL to "Not Every Story Ends Happily Ever After"

**Chapter 8 – My Father's Footsteps**

"I didn't kill Alex."

She said it without any kind of preamble, just randomly announced it over breakfast.

Ziva exchanged looks with Gibbs, though neither had a chance to say anything when she ploughed on.

"Whatever else I may have done, whatever my memories are trying to hide from me, I know I didn't kill him," said Dessi, voice laced with conviction.

"We know," Ziva cut in before she could go on. "Dessi, when we found out you had apparently killed Alex, we did not believe it. In fact, even if I had not seen you again, I still would be in the zone of not-believing."

"Nobody at NCIS – on my team, anyway – believes you could've done the deed," added Gibbs.

Dessi stared. "Then why did you two make me think that I did?"

Ziva shrugged. "We had to make sure. Croissant?"

"No thanks," Dessi frowned. "Well, I'm going to find Alex. And Gregory."

Ziva exchanged glances with her boss again before speaking. "I ... do not think that is such a great idea."

"Why not?"

"Dessi," said Gibbs softly, "The only reason we even considered the possibility of you killing Alex was because we couldn't contact him at all. It was almost like he'd dropped right off the face of the planet. The fact that you're here does nothing to erase the fact that he's probably ... well, dead."

Dessi just scowled at them. "Just 'cause I lost my memories for a little while does not mean I've become mentally deficient. I _know_ there's a chance that he's not alive – so what? If no-one's found a body, then in my mind his heart is still beating."

"And if not?" Ziva had to ask.

"Then I'll find Gregory," said Dessi, determined. "One of those newspapers mentioned him being in an orphanage – there's only two in Australia, and I'll bet those conniving fools we call our intelligence system put him in the one I grew up in, just for the irony – "

"Uh, Des?" said Ziva. "We ... we know where they have got Gregory."

"Had to keep an eye on him," added Gibbs.

"He is in some orphanage called 'With Open Arms' or something," said Ziva.

Her words caused Desiree to smirk triumphantly. "I knew it. See? No originality. It'll be easy to smuggle him out of that wretched hole –"

"No, it is not," Ziva interrupted again. Taking a deep breath, she continued. "Look, we wanted to try get him out of there. Me and Tony were completely prepared to adopt him – Tony even completed most of the paperwork needed for such a process. But ... well ... they told us that Gregory is under the protection of the law, so no-one was legally entitled to adopt him. When we asked if we could at least see Gregory, they told us that he was at school in England, where he had been awarded a scholarship or something –"

Ziva broke off, alarmed, when Dessi suddenly let out an enraged growl.

"We can't track him down when he's over there," Gibbs finished, sipping calmly at his coffee.

"I know. I bet you anything ..." Desiree trailed off, muttering to herself, before turning to the two with newfound determination in her eyes.

"I need to get to England. As soon as possible. And ... I'm going to need your help."

.

Greg was sitting on the back of an old, beaten-down truck, thinking that surely the MI6 budget could afford something more ... road-worthy. The stony-faced driver had barely said two words to him, and after five hours of driving he was becoming exceptionally bored.

It had all started that morning, when some agent had let him out of Lockdown, telling him that Mrs Jones wanted him in her office. He took his time getting there, munching on the piece of toast James and Cameron had thoughtfully snagged for him (though they did owe him one).

Mrs Jones had been waiting for him behind three piles of important looking documents that were stacked taller than his own height.

"Ah Gregory, come in," she had said.

"Hey Mrs Jones," Gregory had greeted cautiously – there was something different about her. This wasn't the Mrs Jones he was accustomed to, the teacher, the almost-mother-hen; this was Mrs Jones, the Deputy Director who sent agents out on death missions with barely a blink.

And sure enough, in the next three seconds she had informed him that he would be sent off for 'further training', like they did with all their agents. And then she had popped a mint in her mouth, which seemed to be some signal for an agent to march into her office and 'escort' Greg out of the building.

Which was why he was currently sitting on the back of a truck, bored out of his mind. At some point, he must've fallen asleep, for suddenly the truck was pulling up into a windy road that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. Down this road they drove for a further hour, the forest whipping past, before they reached where Greg supposed their destination had been.

It was like a camp, with cabins set out randomly over the most challenging terrain he'd seen in his short time. Men ran around, wearing the uniform of soldiers. Four of them ran past where Greg was getting out of the truck, and he glimpsed the crest sewn onto their uniforms.

_SAS_.

Eyes widening at the implication, Greg looked around in shock. He was in their training ground, the one place where the SAS reigned supreme, where the laws were entirely their own. The one place they guarded with their lives. They wouldn't take kindly to an intruder, and even less so to a child.

Greg gulped as he was led across the camp, feeling the burning eyes on his back.

This wasn't going to be fun.

'Viper reporting with the new Recruit, Sergeant Wolf, Sir!' the man who'd been leading him across the training ground – '_Brecon Beacons'_ his mind helpfully filled in – stood at attention, arm tensed in salute to the man sitting behind the desk. The Sergeant.

'At ease, soldier,' the Sergeant said, not even bothering to look up from the file he was reading.

Several beats of silence passed; it seemed as if the Sergeant was doing it on purpose, making Greg sweat as much as possible before swooping in for the kill. Finally, the man sighed and put his file down. Just as slowly, he took off his reading glasses. At long last, he looked up.

And acknowledged Greg's presence with a double take, nearly falling out of his seat.

Greg blinked. Apparently, whatever affected those MI6 agents had also spread to Brecon Beacons. Great.

'Viper, you're dismissed,' the Sergeant said hurriedly, and the soldier left rather quickly, no doubt to spread word about the new kid on their territory. Or about how their Sergeant reacted to said new kid.

The air in the Sergeant's office seemed to have dropped several degrees as he glared unblinkingly at Greg – though glare really wasn't the right word to describe what the Sergeant was doing. It was more ... thoughtful glaring. Or just pure freaked out.

But finally, he picked up the phone sitting on his table, and demanded someone come to his office right away. When he put the phone down, he returned to staring at Greg.

'Um ...' Greg began with no idea of what he was going to say. He just had to say _something_ – the silence was really getting to him. But he was rescued when the door burst open and another soldier walked in.

This one was older than Viper. On closer inspection, Greg recognised the symbol embroidered into the man's sleeve that marked him as a Trainer. He'd probably once been a soldier, perhaps retired...

'Wolf,' the man nodded, coming to a stop next to Greg.

'Shark,' the Sergeant acknowledged, before turning to Greg. A mask had slid over the man's face. 'Right kid. For the next ... however long MI6 are making you stay here, you will be 'Pup'. I don't know what your real name is, and I don't care. But if any of my soldiers find out what it is, I'll send you back to MI6 in three separate pieces. Got it?'

Greg gulped. 'Yes sir.'

The Sergeant nodded. 'Good. Now, this here's Shark. He's in charge of the MI6 training program. From now on, you will only eat when he says so, sleep when he says so, and breathe when he says so. If I hear anything about you being disobedient...'

'You'll send me back to MI6 in three separate pieces?' Greg suggested, before quickly adding, 'Sir.'

The Sergeant nodded approvingly. 'You learn fast, Pup. That's good. Maybe you'll survive longer than the last kid MI6 sent into the field. Alright Shark, he's all yours.'

Greg was rather taken aback from the blunt dismissal, and even more so at what the Sergeant just said. He clearly remembered the boy who'd left maybe two weeks after he'd started at MI6, the boy whom they'd never heard from again.

'Come on, Pup,' Shark said, gesturing for Greg to follow, 'I'll take you to your cabin. You'll be training with Unit F. Don't worry – they've had MI6 kids train with them before.'

Greg smiled hesitantly at the man, who seemed to be making some kind of effort in welcoming him to Hell. But that didn't mean that he missed the contemplative glances Shark shot at him whenever he thought the boy wasn't looking.

_Why the heck does everyone keep doing that?_

.

He was cold.

And wet.

Very wet.

Tiredly, Alex Rider opened his eyes, before immediately squeezing them shut.

_Gah! Since when was the sun so bright?_

It might have taken several years for Alex's eyes to adjust to the unusual brightness, especially after his long captivity in that dark, lonely cell, but eventually Alex was able to look around without shooting pains in his skull.

He seemed to be lying on a deserted beach, right where the pristine water lapped up on the shore. Which explained why he was so cold and wet.

Alex hoisted his broken body up on shaking arms, managing to drag himself several steps up the sand before he collapsed again. Just as he was about to drift off into blissful darkness once more, Alex could faintly make out a couple of shapes hurrying towards him.

The next second, he'd lost consciousness.

The first thing he noticed when he woke up again, was that he was lying on a bed. A soft, warm, comfortable bed, the likes of which he hadn't experienced for almost fourteen years.

Alex opened his eyes, staring up at the roof above. It was much too homey to be a prison, so that probably ruled out his recapture. But just to be safe, he sat up and proceeded to do a full reconnaissance of the room.

Or he would have, if he hadn't collapsed back into the bed the next second.

'He's awake! He's awake!'

The shouts came from outside the room he was in; the door suddenly burst open, causing Alex to violently flinch.

A woman wearing a yellow shirt and a green skirt hurried in, looking rather worried. She appeared to be about fifty, and definitely had children if the motherly aura around her was anything to go off.

'Oh, you poor dear!' she said, almost immediately pulling Alex into a hug. 'We were so worried about you! Lying there on the beach like that – you've been out for almost a week! But the doctor reassured us that you would be fine; it's a good thing we found you, you could've frozen out there!'

Alex blinked at his first contact with humanity – well, with friendly humans at any rate. It was overwhelming to say the least; the last time he remembered being so mollycoddled by someone was –

'Jack,' he whispered.

The woman blinked. 'Is that your wife? Or, girlfriend?' she corrected herself, glancing at Alex's bare ring finger.

'Wha –?'

'Can we contact her?' The woman asked eagerly. 'Only, we've been trying to find anyone related to you, but you didn't have ID or anything! We reported this to the police of course, but they were of no help – though they do have a tendency to ignore us purely because we're way out of their reach.'

Alex blinked. 'Um...if you don't mind me asking...where are we?'

'Wren Island of course!' said the woman.

'Wren Island?'

'Yes. Off the coast of Queensland,' she smiled, 'Someone must have hit your head pretty hard to make you forget about a holiday.'

'...holiday?'

The woman nodded slowly. 'Wren Island – the only complete tourist island in Australia. We only allow ten people at a time here, so don't worry – whichever miscreants who think they can come onto my island and beat up one of my guests won't be leaving in one piece.'

'I'm sorry,' Alex said, 'But I think you're mistaken...'

'Oh, you don't need to protect them! Even if they're your friends – peer pressure and all, though you're a grown man, you don't need to hang around those who turn on you when drunk!'

It was quite clear the woman had already built up a scenario in her head. Meanwhile, Alex was still trying to wrap his mind around his current situation.

It was perhaps a good thing he'd ended up on what seemed to be an almost deserted island. It meant no hospitals, and by the sounds of it, no law enforcers either. Which meant that they couldn't identify him at all.

'I need to go –'

'You're not going anywhere in this state, young man!'

Alex almost laughed, almost pointed out that he was only twenty years her junior. But at the look on her face, he wisely held his tongue. However, when the woman started going off on a tangent about interrogating every tourist she'd let onto the island, he had to speak up.

'Um, look,' Alex began, 'I really appreciate everything you've done for me, but I'm not...I'm not actually a tourist here. I'm actually visiting New Zealand, and I was swimming when the current swept me out to sea.' Hopefully, _hopefully_, his geography wasn't too far off. 'So yeah, I wasn't actually beaten up by anyone. But I do appreciate all you've done for me, and all that you were prepared to do.'

The woman was looking at him appraisingly, almost as if she were thinking his story through. Finally, she nodded. 'You're rather lucky you washed up onto Wren Island then – I've known people who went swimming, and were never found.'

'Yeah, I'm one of the lucky ones,' Alex forced a smile.

'Okay, well that changes things. I'll try and get in touch with the New Zealand police and –'

'There's really no need,' Alex said hastily, 'I wasn't visiting anyone, so I doubt it'll have been reported.'

'Well...' the woman trailed off, 'What would you like me to do?'

Alex frowned thoughtfully. 'If it's not too much trouble ... see, I'm from England ...'

.

_OMG THEY'RE ALL SO CLOSE TO FINALLY GETTING TOGETHER! So, like the sadistic authoress I am, I will milk every second of their isolation ;) Though admittedly, it would be so much easier when they're all together again – then I wouldn't have to juggle five million plot points at once..._

_**Please REVIEW!**_

_**Disclaimer the 2nd**: I do not know if there are still any orphanages left in Australia. The two mentioned in this chapter, and the one mentioned in my stories, are completely made up. So please don't try find them, 'cause they don't exist :)**  
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_By the way, the polls for the SERIES TITLE close next week – as in, I shall close it, then announce the winner next chapter. So go vote now! Here's a refresher on the choices:_

_'__Friendly Encounters__' or '__Solitary Spies__' – Suggested by __**Another Harry Potter Fan**_

_'__Desire__' – Suggested by __**don't worry about it**_

_'__The Solitary World of Spies__' – suggested by __**Albany**_

'_Playing the Hero'__ – suggested by __**Koyuki-Rune**_

'_Espionage Hates Lovers'__ – suggested by __**Sapphire2309**_

'_The Life of a Spy'__ – suggested by __**h i g h o n c l o u d n i n e**_

'_The Secret Services are Screwy'__ – suggested by __**Dragonanzar**_

_Go vote! And to the winner, goes a one-shot that may evolve into a story of their choice! And yes, if you win, I will personally contact you, so don't worry about that part ;)_

_Thanks for reading!_

_Love Chariots99_


	9. Proving Them Wrong

_Whew – this is gonna be a looooooong chapter!_

_Thank you so much to all my reviewers! You seriously rock my world!_

_The winner of the polling contest shall be announced at the end of this chapter! If you're the winner, I shall be in contact with you very soon ;)_

**Disclaimer** – I do not, have not, and will not ever own Alex Rider

**Warnings** – This is a SEQUEL! (well, more like five-quel...) So PLEASE read the preceding stories – I don't think this'll do well as a stand-alone. You have been warned...

**Summary** – Unbeknownst to them, all their past adventures had been leading to this point. Because it wasn't fate that brought them together. It was something else. A secret so big, that people would do anything to make sure it stayed just that. Secret. And so came the big question; how far would you go in the name of love? SEQUEL to "Not Every Story Ends Happily Ever After"

**Chapter 9 – Proving Them Wrong**

If someone had asked Greg what he thought of SAS soldiers a week ago, he would've said that they were very brave, very loyal men. But if someone had asked him that same question that night, he would've grumpily snapped that they were a sadistic bunch of people who enjoyed tormenting newcomers and MI6 trainees. And since Greg had the misfortune of being a mix of both, he was picked on twice as much.

The boy sighed, looking up in the darkness from his bunk. Around him, he could hear the snores of F Unit, who were all tired out from that day's training. Greg was too, but for some reason he just couldn't get to sleep.

Just that day, he'd been put through training exercises which fully grown men struggled with. Added on top of that was additional training in Stealth, Weaponry, and Tactics. And yet, throughout it all, he couldn't help but notice that among the many burning glares shot in his direction were several curious, maybe even familiar stares too.

And he just didn't know what to make of it all.

A dark shadow passed the window, making its way towards the Sergeant's cabin. He wasn't sure why, but something about the way the person was moving intrigued Greg. Since he had nothing better to do but sleep, Greg silently crept out of the cabin and, unknowingly proving everything Director Blunt had said about him wrong, tagged along after the shadow to quench his curiosity.

The shadow stepped into the light outside the Sergeant's cabin – it was Shark. The soldier, and Greg's trainer, looked around into the darkness before heading inside. Greg crept around the cabin until he found the window, which someone had left slightly open. Carefully, he peeked inside.

There were several soldiers lounging around, playing cards, drinking and talking. Shark walked into the room, and was joyfully welcomed by the others, who all appeared to be SAS Trainers, according to the symbols on their sleeves.

'Shark, glad you could finally join us!'

Greg had missed the Sergeant in his original sweep of the room, but there the man was, clapping Shark on the back as the Trainer sat down beside him.

'Hey Wolf,' Shark greeted. 'Glad to see you started another reunion without me.'

'Well, you're obviously too busy running around after MI6 kids, so I saw no reason not to,' the Sergeant – _Wolf_ – grinned.

'Yeah, what's the deal with all these kids anyway?' One of the other soldiers spoke up.

All eyes turned on Shark, who rolled his own skywards. 'It's some school MI6 have opened up. From what I can gather, they recruit kids into their intense program, and when they think they've learnt enough, they send those kids here and let us toughen them up a little.'

'Learnt enough?'

'You know – things like shooting, self defence ... espionage stuff. It's like the Cherub program the MI5 runs ... only way harder.'

'Oh yeah, I heard o' Cherub,' another soldier said. 'Worked with some kids a couple o' years back. Complete wusses, but they got the job done.'

'Wait, let me get this straight,' the first soldier – Greg mentally named him Blondie – said slowly, 'we're training _kids_ to be sent out on _missions_ where they could probably _die_ ... surely this is illegal?'

Shark snorted. 'Agencies like MI6 _make_ the law, mate; pretty sure they'd know how to sidestep them too.'

'It's unethical, is what it is,' the other soldier – officially redubbed Beard – said, 'I can't believe you'd be taking part in it.'

'If not me, then who else?' Shark challenged. 'Someone has to do it – otherwise those bastards will just send the kids out with no training at all. You know as well as me that they wouldn't care.'

That caused Beard to step down. But Blondie spoke up once more with a frown: 'Why do they do it in the first place, anyway? I mean, they have hundreds of agents at their disposal; why risk innocent young lives at all?'

Shark and Wolf exchanged looks; it was the Sergeant who answered. 'That's exactly it – kids are more innocent. No-one suspects them at all. So when they deal the final blow, you're still too busy thinking about all those other people who were much higher up on the suspect list.'

There was silence as this sank in. Both Blondie and Beard looked like they wanted to say something, anything, to refute this. But the fact of the matter was that it was true. Nobody expected children when they were on the look-out for adult agents. That was why Cherub and the MI6 kids were so in demand.

'Why us?' Beard finally said. 'Why do they send those kids to us?'

'Well ... I suppose you could say we've got quite a history with MI6,' said Wolf. Maybe it was the light, but Greg thought the Sergeant suddenly looked rather sad. 'You've all heard of Cub, yeah?'

Blondie snorted. 'Of course! Who hasn't? We make sure the new trainees know that _particular_ legend – gives us excuses to push any pansies to their limits.'

'Thing is ... Cub wasn't always a legend,' Shark said. The pause that followed was so profound it literally hurt Greg's ears.

'Cub was ... _real_?'

'Real,' Wolf nodded grimly, 'and every bit as dangerous as the legends we tell. Perhaps even more so than we make him out to be.'

'That – that's not possible,' Blondie said shakily.

'Unfortunately, it is,' said Wolf. 'He must've been some kind of MI6 experiment. Only Special Ops were – _are – _stupid enough to come up with something as ingenious and completely immoral as that. There definitely weren't any MI6 kids before him. My guess is, they were waiting to see how well he turned out before they put anymore of 'em out on the field.'

'And if the legends are anythin' to go by ...' said Beard

Wolf nodded. 'He was a success. Best record of any agent MI6 ever had.'

'And the worst news those kids could ever hear,' muttered Shark.

'The ... CIA I believe tried to conduct the same experiment; sent their kid straight into death,' said Wolf, shaking his head. 'That helped put MI6 off their little "Spy School" for a few years.'

'Until it didn't,' said Blondie.

'Yeah.'

Greg was all but holding his breath, his mind whirling rapidly with all that he'd heard. Sure, he'd known all along that one day he'd be sent into the field – Mrs Jones had never held back that truth from them. But hearing those war-hardened soldiers talk about it with such disgust suddenly put things into perspective.

This wasn't a game. This was the real thing. And if he ever made one false move, he could die.

Slowly, Greg allowed himself to slide down to the ground. He felt so cold. So numb. But yet, his mind was so clear. Suddenly he understood – this was the reason why he, and Pat, James and Cameron were all orphans. Because if something did go wrong, no-one would miss them. No-one would ever bother looking into it. They would just ... disappear. As if they'd never existed in the first place.

_No ... no, this isn't what I want_, Greg thought. When he'd first been contacted by the MI6, he'd been thrilled. It had all seemed like an adventure. He could be like a mini James Bond, saving the world in style. But he'd never expected this.

Now, more than ever, he wished for his parents. If they were still alive ... well, he wouldn't be in this mess at all for starters. But he needed someone to help him, to tell him what to do. To help him escape.

He was under no illusions now. He knew what being sent to Brecon Beacons meant. Actually, he'd probably known it all along, but hearing those soldiers talk ...

MI6 were going to send him into the field. Whether it be tomorrow, whether it be next week ... he'd be out there, risking his life. And with none the wiser.

'I think I'm gonna call it a night.' Beard was talking again. 'Need to be up bright and early tomorrow. 'Night all.'

'Hang on, I'll go too,' said Blondie. 'Get what little sleep I can after that morbid talk.'

The two soldiers exited, forcing Greg to crouch deeper into the shadows to avoid being seen. Thinking that Shark would be leaving too, he was just about to creep off when the Sergeant started talking again.

'You know that new kid – Pup?'

Greg froze, thinking that the game was up. But then the Sergeant kept talking.

'Is it just me, or does he remind you of Alex?'

_Alex?_ Intrigued, Greg moved closer, carefully peeking into the cabin once more. The Sergeant had the strangest expression on his face, like a mix between contemplative and disturbed.

'Yeah, I actually noticed that too,' said Shark, 'though it did take me a while to place the face ... I guess that's just because I didn't know Alex as long as you guys did.'

Wolf let out a shaky breath. 'I almost wish I were hallucinating or something. 'Cause all I can think of right now is that his spirit is back and haunting us.'

'Why would he haunt us? Especially here?'

'You didn't meet him when I did,' said Wolf darkly. 'First time he was shoved into our old unit, I did some things that ... I'm not proud of.'

'I won't ask.'

'Thank you.'

There was silence once more, as each man lapsed into his own thoughts. For a while, Greg was indecisive about whether he should stay, or leave, since the conversation seemed to be over. Before he could make up his mind though, the Sergeant spoke up once more.

'He was having a kid, remember?'

'I try not to,' said Shark darkly, 'because that inevitably leads to ... _her_.'

Wolf conceded the point with a silent nod. Sometime later, Shark stood and bid the Sergeant goodnight. Soon after that, Wolf himself went to bed, unknowingly thrusting Greg into darkness as he turned off his light.

It was only when first light began to shine over Brecon Beacons that Greg finally moved from his position.

.

It had taken Alex several more days before he was well enough, and strong enough, to be able to finally walk around on his own. In that time, he'd done a Google search of the past fourteen years, and found out that Desiree had been locked up for murder, his child was in an orphanage, and Alex himself was actually supposed to be dead.

Needless to say, this was not something he mentioned to his host.

The woman who'd looked after him – whom Alex found out was named Cassie – had made several enquiries over that period of time, first trying to locate 'Jack Starbright' in England and, when that failed, trying to secure a passport for Alex so that he could go back himself.

'Stupid immigrations department and their stupid laws,' she had muttered one time.

Apparently, since Alex had no form of identity on him, and since he had actually given Cassie a fake name and therefore wasn't actually registered as being in any country in the southern hemisphere, they weren't legally allowed to produce a passport for him.

But it seemed living on an almost-deserted island, far removed from the law, had given Cassie an edge over stiff-necked politicians.

'Here, take this,' said Cassie, handing over an Australian passport, as they stood in the main shore International Airport. Dropping her voice, she whispered, 'It belonged to my son. He looks rather like you, though his nose is much flatter. Don't worry though – they won't be able to tell the difference.'

The woman really didn't have much faith in the law enforcers, Alex reflected with a wry grin.

'...and here's your boarding pass,' Cassie finished, passing a plane ticked over to Alex.

'I – look, thank you so much for everything,' said Alex sincerely. 'I don't know how to repay you for all this.'

'Oh, don't worry about it!' Cassie grinned. 'I'll just think of it as my good deed for the year.'

Alex laughed. 'But seriously, thank you. I'll never forget it.'

Cassie smiled. 'Neither will I. It was a pleasure meeting you, young man. Take care of yourself, and good luck.'

He took a moment to watch her depart, before going through to the boarding gates. Then, with a small smile, he turned to begin the journey home. Wren Island ... maybe someday, he'll go back. It definitely sounds like a great place for a holiday.

And what was even better – he'd finally learnt what Vegemite was.

.

The plane ride was exceptionally long, and yet seemed to pass with the blink of an eye.

_England_.

The airport itself hadn't changed at all, and yet every detail seemed new and imposing.

Desiree Swan took a deep, steadying breath, feeling her hands tremor with anticipation and fear. She'd made, though. She'd gotten this far, though not without a little help from certain key NCIS agents, with seemingly bottomless pits of favours they could call in.

_Mental note to self – never underestimate ex-Mossad agents again._

Head held high, dyed black hair (courtesy of previously mentioned Mossad agent) pulled back, Dessi marched out of the airport with her single bag in tow. In order to make sure she wasn't being followed, she doubled back three times, took four wrong turns on purpose, and made her way through several dingy alleyways before she allowed herself to relax.

The roads may have changed, but Dessi had spent the last few days memorising current maps of the areas she was preparing to visit. First on the list was Alex's old house of residence. Even if he wasn't there, Dessi hoped that maybe his housekeeper would still be there.

Five busses later (three of which were taken to throw any would-be followers off her track), and Dessi was walking down a very familiar looking street. Looking around, she allowed a small smile to grace her face. This was Alex's old street. Ah the memories. Hopefully someone here would have some idea of what happened to him.

It took longer than expected to reach Alex's old house, mainly because someone had completely redesigned the front so that it was barely recognisable. Crossing her fingers, and hoping that it had been Jack who'd decided to give the house a makeover, Dessi knocked on the door.

She waited.

And waited.

It took almost three minutes of incessant knocking before the door finally swung open. And Dessi, disappointed, found herself facing an overweight man, about forty years old, already with a bald patch at the top of his head.

'Yes?' the man said in a rather rude tone.

'Um, hi,' Dessi gave a hesitant smile, 'Do you ... I mean, I used to be very good friends with the family who lived in this house. Do you know where they might be?'

'How should I know? I bought this house like thirteen years ago,' the man scowled. 'Last I heard, lady who lived here's movin' to America to be closer to her family or whatnot.'

'Oh, okay ... well, thanks anyway.'

'Yeah, whatever.'

And just like that, the door was slammed in her face.

'Jerk,' Dessi muttered as she turned and left. That had unexpectedly cut short the main trail she had to follow. If Jack had returned to America – change that, if Jack had sold the Rider house ... then that meant Alex had not come anywhere near here before he disappeared.

'Damn it,' she swore under her breath.

At that particular moment in time, she wasn't entirely sure where her feet were taking her, only that the route she was travelling appeared rather familiar. And then, she'd had no more time to think on it when someone grabbed her roughly from behind, and a jammed a knife against her throat. The choking smell of alcohol filled her nose, causing her eyes to water at the stench.

'I don't want any trouble,' a low voice growled. 'Just hand over your bag, and we'll move on.'

Instincts she'd long thought to be buried suddenly flared to life.

Even in her admittedly still-weakened and unpractised state, she still managed to take out the man who'd snuck up on her. It definitely helped that the man was drunk. Actually, come to think about it, that was probably the only reason why she'd managed to fend him off at all...

In the blink of an eye she had him on the ground, disarmed. She was just about to knock him out and escape when it suddenly occurred to her that his features were very, _very _familiar.

She dropped the knife, shocked.

"Tom?"

"...Dessi?"

.

_Okay, I know Alex's bit was rather short. In the first draft, he had a bigger role ('cause he'd actually landed in England and all, and stuff actually happened), but then I had this awesome idea to blend the two flight scenes together, so that you see Alex going onto the plane, and someone coming off and you don't know who until I say it's Dessi. So yeah..._

_This means that next chapter will be mainly about Alex. And he does some pretty awesome stuff ...so stay tuned! Oh, and in case you were wondering – Vegemite was mentioned in the previous story during Dessi's cravings. Just to let you all know, _it is real_ ;)_

_**Please REVIEW!**_

_AND THE WINNER OF THE SERIES NAMING COMPETITION IS ... _

'_PLAYING THE HERO'__ BY __**KOYUKI-RUNE!**_

_Congrats, and you'll be hearing from me very soon!_

_Love Chariots99_


	10. So Close Together

_Sorry for the extremely long wait – life caught up, exams came much too quickly, and I got stressed out._

_You may have noticed that this chapter is quite long. Reason being that even though I stopped updating, I didn't stop writing. I'm thinking maybe I should make all future chapters this long, just to give you all something more t read. What do you think?_

**Disclaimer** – I do not, have not, and will not ever own Alex Rider

**Warnings** – This is the FIFTH STORY in my AR series '_Playing the Hero__'_, so PLEASE read the preceding stories – I don't think this'll do well as a stand-alone. You have been warned...

**Summary** – Unbeknownst to them, all their past adventures had been leading to this point. Because it wasn't fate that brought them together. It was something else. A secret so big, that people would do anything to make sure it stayed just that. Secret. And so came the big question; how far would you go in the name of love? SEQUEL to 'Not Every Story Ends Happily Ever After'

**Chapter 10 – So Close Together **

The best thing about being supposedly dead, as opposed to being a registered spy or a wanted criminal, was the anonymity.

The international airport itself hadn't changed much, but walking out of it, Alex Rider had never felt so free. Granted, he was still scanning his surroundings for any signs of danger, or anyone with guns that may be trained in his direction, but overall he was much more relaxed than he would've fourteen years ago. It was a rather novel feeling, not being in mortal peril.

So of course, the universe would have to go and ruin that for him.

After paying the taxi driver, who had dropped him off a couple of streets away from the 'Bank', Alex began his long walk. Honestly, he wasn't sure why he was even paying a visit to MI6, considering the millions of other places he wanted to be.

But at that moment, it seemed wisest to try extracting information from an intelligence agency, rather than wondering around aimlessly on his own. After being out of the loop for so many years, he wouldn't even know where to pick up the trail, whereas he was quite certain that MI6 would have a dozen probable paths to follow. That and, he was sure MI6 had kept tabs on both Gregory and Dessi. So it seemed like the most logical place to start.

It was at that moment that he heard the shouts, and the unmistakable roar of guns.

Quickly, Alex ducked for cover behind the wall that separated the main street from its secluded and very well hidden alleyway. He took a deep breath, feeling the familiar rush of adrenalin pump through his veins.

_I need a weapon!_

Alex cast his gaze around for anything he could use to defend himself, though the best option was really to disarm the gunman to level the playing field. It was just as he made up his mind and readied his newly-recovered body, that Alex realised something rather important which he'd overlooked.

They didn't seem to be aiming for him at all.

Indeed, as Alex cautiously stuck his head around the corner of the brick wall, there were two people – a man and a woman – sprinting down the street as if their lives depended on it.

Which, to be fair, it probably did.

From the sounds of things, there were at least five men hunting them as they hurried down the main street. The two had somehow managed to gain quite an impressive lead – in fact, it was not actually possible to see their chasers, only to hear the guns and see the resulting blasts as their bullets took out chunks from neighbouring walls – but it was obvious one of the two was injured; she moved in a very uncoordinated fashion, limping wildly in obvious pain.

It almost seemed as if the only reason she was upright was due to the support of her friend.

Suddenly, another gunman leaped out from nowhere, only metres from where Alex himself was hiding. The man opened fire on the pair, both of whom threw themselves aside to avoid the hail of bullets, leaping from side to side in a deadly dance for survival.

But they wouldn't last forever; one slip up, and their bodies would be blasted into smithereens.

Without knowing why, because Alex's body never quite seemed to be able to reason with his mind, the former MI6 agent jumped out from his hiding spot and raced towards the gunman who, in his trigger-happy moment of concentration, had yet to notice the figure rapidly moving in his direction. Just as the gunman took aim once more, Alex tackled him from behind.

The man let out a shout of surprise as he hit the ground, hard, but Alex didn't give him any time to recover. A quick jerk of the elbow had the man disarmed, his gun falling with a clatter to the ground just out of reach. Unfortunately, that loss of his weapon seemed to trigger a response in the man Alex had pinned down.

With a roar, he flipped them both over. Alex saw the fist coming, but in his current position it was rather hard to avoid the impact. His head snapped back painfully. Blinking, dizzy and disorientated, Alex felt himself being pulled up by his shirt, before another blow was delivered. But he would have to be an idiot to allow himself to be hit for a third time. So when the fist closed in again, Alex twisted his body into a definitely unnatural position, and bucked the man off him, elbowing him in the face for good measure.

They both scrambled to their feet, panting and trying to ignore their injuries. From the corner of his eye, Alex noticed the two whom he'd originally intended to save staring at him, the man still supporting what appeared to be the entire weight of the woman. He was also rather aware of the gunshots that were nearing their position as the rest of the gunmen began to close in.

'What are you waiting for? Run!' Alex shouted, gesturing to the hidden alleyway while ducking the wild punch that had been directed towards him. It was with great relief when he saw that the two had understood him, and were quickly hurrying out of sight.

Alex turned his attention back to the problem at hand, and not a moment too soon; the next second, the man had come charging at him with a bellow, seemingly intent on either tackling Alex, or strangling him. Well, Alex wasn't about to let either of those two things happen: he wasn't the youngest ever spy for nothing. At the last minute, Alex dropped to the ground, lashing out with the force of years of training and experience.

There was a sickening crunch as the man's knee blew inwards, and he dropped to the ground with a howl. Alex dived for the gun, rolling quickly as the man tried to attack him through his pain. Springing to his feet, Alex gripped the hard-won weapon tightly before slamming the cold metal across the man's head. Once, twice more he did that, before a last blow send the man staggering to the ground, collapsing in on himself.

Breathing heavily, Alex cautiously approached the man, finger on the trigger just in case. But it seemed that he'd knocked the man out. And with the amount of force he'd applied, he was quite sure that the man wouldn't be getting back up anytime soon.

It was the shouts and the gunshots echoing down the street that jerked Alex out of his contemplation. The others were closing in, which meant that Alex needed to get out before his body could be used as a live target. Grabbing the arms of the fallen man, Alex quickly dragged him backwards into the hidden alleyway, the two disappearing from sight just as the first of the original pack of shooters appeared in view of the street.

Alex gestured for quiet, ushering them all deeper into the alleyway. The woman, who seemed only a few years older than himself, collapsed onto the ground, whimpering quietly in pain. Her leg was horribly mangled, and hanging limply at a rather gruesome angle. As the gunshots and the shouting drew closer, Alex leaned over and covered her mouth with his hand, mouthing an apology as he did.

Together they waited with baited breath. It wasn't long before a herd of men thundered past, guns blazing despite the fact that they could no longer see their prey. They completely overlooked the small alleyway cast in darkness, convinced as they were that the two they'd been hunting were already at the other end of the street. Alex put up his hand to signal to the two with him that they should wait until the coast was definitely clear.

What followed was probably the tensest two minutes of his life, as the sounds of the chase gradually began to dim.

'It's okay; I don't hear them anymore,' Alex breathed, turning to the two he'd just rescued.

'Yeah, thanks for that,' the man said, looking up from where he'd been trying to stem the flow of blood pouring out the woman's leg. 'You probably saved our lives.'

In that moment, their eyes connected, and familiarity struck Alex like a sword through the chest.

'... Ben?' he whispered, before dropping his eyes down to the injured woman. 'Rose?'

The man had recognised him too. In a matter of seconds, Alex found a gun pointed directly at his chest, as Ben stared at him in shock and fury.

'Who are you?' Ben demanded, voice suddenly cold and eyes empty. 'And how _dare_ you impersonating him?'

'Impersonating –? No, Ben, it's me! Alex! Alex Rider!'

Rose chose that moment to succumb to her many wounds, and slump over in a dead faint.

.

Desiree Swan sat silently on the cold stone ground, hands clasped behind her back.

She was in Tom's ... home. It was really more like a broken down, highly unkempt room littered with old newspapers and empty glass bottles. The air was thick with the stench of alcohol and week-old takeaway.

The place was a couple of doors away from where she remembered a younger Tom Harris to have lived, back when his parents had been continuously fighting and he'd been around constantly at Alex's house. How Tom managed to afford it when he looked like he was homeless now was beyond her.

Sitting across from Dessi was the man himself, who had yet to stop staring at her in what she concluded to be amazement. To be perfectly honest, it was staring to freak her out. She was quite convinced the man hadn't blinked for the past fifteen minutes.

Finally, she broke the tense silence.

'Tom? I don't want to sound rude but ... what happened to you?'

Tom started at her voice, before looking down at himself and shrugging self-consciously. 'While Alex was out saving the world, I was out enjoying life. Guess neither path turned out quite right in the end.'

Dessi snorted. 'Yeah, tell me about it.'

They stared at each other in silence once more.

'So ... um ... do you want some lunch?' asked Tom, scratching his head.

'Are you going to poison it?'

Tom gave her a rather startled look that was so reminiscent of his youth that it seemed to take years of his now-haggard face. 'Why would I do that?'

'Um ... didn't you hear about me "killing" Alex?' Dessi asked, wondering if maybe the news didn't reach Europe. 'I thought you'd be the sort of person who would avenge your friend.'

'Oh that,' said Tom, dismissively waving his hand. 'Yeah, I heard about that. Never believed it though. When you grow up with an MI6 agent as your best friend, you don't really put much stock in the news.'

'Wish the rest of the world saw it that way,' sighed Desiree.

'Yeah, bad luck, eh?' shrugged Tom. 'You want some pizza? I think I've got leftovers from last week.'

Dessi raised an eyebrow at the mess that littered the floor. 'Yeah, I think I prefer some fresh food if you don't mind. Here, it'll be on me – NCIS lent me some money, and I think you could use a good meal or two in you. Just so you don't die on me.'

'Fine then,' Tom pouted, and that expression was so familiar that it startled a laugh out of Dessi. It was definitely good to know that some things never changed.

.

Ben sat in silence in his apartment, his gaze never once leaving the boy – the _man_ sitting quietly in the corner, vigilantly tending to Rose. As if he knew her. As if ... Ben shook himself. No, it can't be _him_. Ben was just seeing things, that's all. His age was making him hallucinate. Yes, that was it.

But he knew it wasn't.

Ben sighed, though not loud enough to disturb the thick silence hanging in the air. He really should've taken Wolf's advice, and quit back when he still could've escaped the mystery unharmed. But it was too late, and now he was tangled within its depths as surely as if he were a helpless fly caught within the web of a giant spider. And the worst part was that he could do nothing but watch it all unravel in front of him, and pray that they all survived the resulting backlash in one piece.

Everything he had ever thought he'd known was about to change.

'Ben?'

That voice, so hoarse and different, and yet so _familiar_ broke into his thoughts.

'Yeah?' Ben looked up into those concerned brown eyes.

'You alright?'

'I'm fine A...Alex.' God, the name sounded so strange, so _foreign_. From the expression in his eyes, Ben knew that Alex had caught the slight hesitation. He sighed. 'Sorry. It's just going to take some getting used to.'

'I know,' Alex smiled tiredly. 'I know.'

They lapsed into silence as Alex began to bandage up Rose's leg.

'This might not be my place to ask ...' Alex began quietly, 'but exactly what happened to her?'

'Mission gone wrong,' Ben sighed. 'It was meant to be a simple scouting mission. Obviously, it didn't end that well; I think the two unknowingly overheard something important. Either way she and her partner ended up as hostages. When I found out, I went after them without MI6's knowledge. I found Rose a couple of days after she managed to escape.'

'And her partner?'

Ben shook his head sadly. 'Agent Garnett. I don't know if you remember her at all. She was a good agent ... slightly boring, but very reliable and very talented. From what I can gather, she was planning on retiring after this mission, go travelling with her husband. She saw her first grandchild a few days before they left.'

Alex closed his eyes in silence. It wasn't often that people like Blunt remembered his Agents were humans too, who lived and loved. It was when things like this happened that made one realise just how deadly the world of espionage really was. And now more than ever he wished that he hadn't gotten caught up in this world at all.

'You planning on retiring in the near future?' Alex asked, washing the blood away from his hands.

Ben shrugged. 'Definitely been thinking about it. I don't really want to give my wife or kids premature coronaries anytime soon; they worry too much. It's the reason why I sent them away on holiday. Turned out to be a good thing too; I don't think my wife would take too kindly to having my bleeding protégée and a dead man in her living room.'

'Yeah,' Alex laughed, before suddenly sobering up.

'Alex?' Ben frowned, worried. 'What's wrong?'

'I just ...' Alex took a deep breath. 'Never mind. It's been a while since I've thought about it.'

'Thought about what?'

'Gregory.' Alex blinked back tears at the name. 'Where he is. What he looks like. Whether he likes Chinese food, or Italian.'

'Well, I don't know about the other things,' said Ben gently, 'but I do know that he's in Australia. In one of their orphanages. I would've adopted him myself – my wife had all the paperwork completed and everything – but they said it couldn't be done.'

'You would've done that for me?'

'Least we could do. No kid deserves to grow up without parents.'

Alex smiled. 'Thank you, Ben. It's good to know I've got such great friends, and I'm sure Desiree feels the same.'

Abruptly, Ben's face became a mask of cold anger. 'How can you even _mention_ that name? That traitor; she murdered you –!' and he broke off, staring at Alex's definitely alive face. '... didn't she?' Ben shook his head as they were led in a full circle.

'I know what was reported all those years ago,' said Alex carefully. 'But it's not true. As you can see, I'm very much alive.'

'I ... I think it's time you told me what happened that day,' Ben said shakily.

'Yeah, I think so too.' And so Alex began the story of that fateful day. How the young couple and their child landed in Australia. How Dessi had gone to the AIS to hand in her resignation, and Alex had stayed behind to look after Gregory. How Michaelis Menten had somehow managed to track him down, the battle that had erupted between them, and Alex's eventual capture. He confessed to spending the last fourteen years locked away in who-knows-where as Menten's little plaything, before his daring escape and recovery upon Wren Island.

It took the better part of two hours for him to complete his story. When he finished, Ben Daniels was left speechless, gaping at him in shock, though it could've also been awe. It was Rose who finally spoke, breaking the stunned silence and scaring the crap out of the two men, neither of whom had noticed the woman waking.

'I think it's time we tracked Dessi down.'

.

It was rare for Gregory to get even a moment of peace and quiet. His unit never gave him a break, constantly harassing him to keep up, to run faster, to jump higher. And as if that wasn't enough, there was his trainer Shark who was every bit as deadly as his code-name. Between the two, Greg had received more bruises and injuries than he'd ever had in his whole short life.

But at that moment, with the sun just setting and his unit still at dinner, he finally had some time to himself.

And the first thing he did was pull out the page on a certain Alex Rider which he'd kept hidden in the depths of his bag.

Greg wasn't entirely sure why he was reading the now-crumpled piece of paper again. All he knew was that in his previous, rather brief scan of the thing, he'd missed out something vitally important. And if Shark had taught him anything, it was that spies had to trust their instinctual feelings, as it was their only permanent weapon when they were out in the field.

_Alex John Rider ... _

_... fluent in French, Spanish and German ... _

_... understand basic Italian, and possibly Japanese ... _

_... athletically talented ... _

_... perhaps other unknown skills ... _

_... obtained a black belt in Karate, and has on many occasions successfully defended himself from other more skilled fighters ..._

He had read it all before. If nothing else, this second reading affirmed in Greg's mind just how amazing this agent must have been.

'I really wish I could meet you,' whispered Greg, his eyes scanning the top of the document.

_Current status: Unknown._

'Brilliant,' Greg muttered. 'You must be one of the only agents MI6 hasn't marked off as "deceased".' He knew, from their numerous case studies which Mrs Jones had forced on them, that more than one agent had been "brought back from the dead" because MI6 had labelled them as being deceased when they weren't. It seemed this particular agent was so amazing that even the agency didn't want to give up hope.

It was as Greg was about to put the document away that a single sentence at the very end of the page caught his eye.

_While training at Brecon Beacons under the code-name 'Cub', Agent Rider managed to rake up an impressive list of property damage, along with being the cause of hospitalisation for several Green Jackets during RTI training._

Greg's eyes widened at the previously unread sentence.

'Alex Rider was _Cub_,' he breathed, his mind flashing back to that night he'd spent eavesdropping outside the Sergeant's cabin. They had said he looked like Alex ... like Cub. That must be why all those people kept giving him double takes when he was first introduced to them.

'I remind them of someone from SAS legend!' Greg grinned in the dark, before another voice, an echo, drifted through his head.

"_He was having a kid, remember?"_

That was what the Sergeant had said. Fourteen years ago, Alex Rider had been about to become a father.

And Greg ... he was fourteen, wasn't he? Could it ... could it be just a coincidence? If it was, why was his heart pounding so damn hard?

"_I try not to, because that inevitably leads to ... her."_

'_Her_' ... Had Shark perhaps been referring to his mother?

But, if he was ... why did he use such a disgusted tone of voice when a moment ago he'd been talking about Cub almost reverently?

In the falling darkness of the cabin, crystal blue eyes hardened with a look no fourteen year old should ever wear. He wanted answers, and screw the consequences, he was going to get them.

So lost was he in his newfound determinism that he failed to hear the intruder in F-Unit's cabin. The edge of a pistol flew through the darkness, colliding hard against his head. The piece of paper slipped from his suddenly limp fingers, fluttering unnoticed onto the ground.

He never even felt the pain before he was lost to the darkness.

.

Alex and Ben were walking around outside Ben's apartment. Officially, they were out for some fresh air. Unofficially, they were on the look-out for any suspicious behaviour, while Rose stayed behind in Ben's apartment (unwillingly of course), left to do some scouring using Ben's impossibly high security clearance.

'Hey Ben,' Alex began, 'do you mind me asking you a question?'

'Depends.'

'Well, I was just wondering ... whatever happened to K-Unit?'

That surprised a laugh out of Ben. 'Oh, I can't believe I haven't told you already!'

'Told me what?' asked Alex, a premature grin already forming on his face.

'You'll never believe this – okay, so the Sergeant retired several years ago; seven, I think. Guess who he named as his successor?'

'Just tell me already!'

'Okay, brace yourself,' Ben laughed. 'The new Sergeant is ... Wolf!'

Alex choked. '_Wolf_? Seriously?'

'I know!'

Alex dissolved into laughter. 'Oh those poor men!'

'That was my reaction too!'

'Oh, that's classic!' Alex said, wiping a tear from his eye. 'Man, that made my day.'

Ben just grinned. At that moment, they were interrupted by Ben's phone which, for some reason, was playing the Macarena. Seeing that it was Rose calling them, Ben glanced around to check that the coast was clear before putting the phone on loudspeaker so that Alex could also hear whatever the woman had to say.

'Hey Rose,' greeted Ben.

'_Hello people who never let me have any fun._'

'You know we still love you.'

'_Yeah, whatever_.'

'Come on Rose,' Alex grinned. 'We know you didn't call us just to complain. What did you find?'

'_I'm not telling you_.' There was a pause, in which Rose probably realised how counterproductive that would be. '_Alright fine, I'll tell you. Though to be honest, I'm not entirely sure myself what I've found.'_

'Just hit us with it,' sighed Ben.

'_Okay, so I was running a scan in the Australian criminal records for Dessi –'_

'And you found her?' asked Alex excitedly.

'_Uh, no. According to their records, no "Desiree Swan" was ever put into jail. So then I was running the same scan on international records, when a name popped up. Which is why I've called. Does "Drew Wood" ring a bell for either of you?'_

Ben frowned. 'It's definitely very familiar –'

'Hang on!' Alex cut the man off. 'That's Dessi's old alias!'

'_Oh, that's why –!'_

'Did you follow it?'

'_Of course I did, what kind of spy do you take me for?_'

'Are you planning on telling us anytime soon?' asked Ben, squeezing his phone rather tightly in his hand.

'_Well, "Drew Wood" landed in London not forty hours ago. According to his ... um, her incoming passenger card – you know, the one you have to fill in when you land so that you can get through customs? – "Drew Wood" is staying at the Dux Hotel. You wanna go check it out?'_

'Way ahead of you there,' said Ben as both men took off at a run for his car.

'You stay put, Rose,' commanded Alex. 'Don't you even dare try come after us.'

'_You're no fun_.'

Ben grinned at the obvious pout in her voice, before disconnecting the line and starting up his car.

They had an AWOL spy to catch.

.

_Ten pages. I think that makes up for my absence, don't you?_

_**Please**__** REVIEW!**_

_Love Chariots99_


	11. Payback

_Yes, I think the long chapter trend is definitely here to stay ;)_

**Disclaimer** – I do not, have not, and will not ever own Alex Rider

**Warnings** – This is the FIFTH STORY in my AR series '_Playing the Hero__', s_o PLEASE read the preceding stories – I don't think this'll do well as a stand-alone. You have been warned...

**Summary** – Unbeknownst to them, all their past adventures had been leading to this point. Because it wasn't fate that brought them together. It was something else. A secret so big, that people would do anything to make sure it stayed just that. Secret. And so came the big question; how far would you go in the name of love? SEQUEL to 'Not Every Story Ends Happily Ever After'

**Chapter Warning** – Some violence. Just sayin'...

Oh, and to the anonymous reviewer **Jake**: First of all, why did you choose the name of a dead person? You almost made me cry when I saw it! Anyway, to answer your question, Dessi's backup team got withdrawn once the AIS realised she had met up with MI6 and NCIS agents. I know it's not specifically stated, but basically when the Mossad agent was retracted, the AIS realised that Dessi's backup team would be useless too, so they got pulled to be sent on another mission (so that they didn't "waste valuable resources"). They were going to get rid of Matthew Lake too, but Dessi intervened and told them that he wasn't ready to go solo yet (because she didn't want another partner killed). Hope that answers your question ;)

.

**Chapter Eleven – Payback**

Gregory Rider woke up with a groan, clutching at his throbbing head.

'What on earth ...?'

'Hey Pup, you alright?' One of the members of his unit – he thought it was Falcon, the medic – was crouched by his side. 'They got you good, didn't they?'

'Who exactly are they?' asked Greg as he struggled into a sitting position, blinking rapidly to try clear his vision.

It was Eel who answered. 'Green Jackets, if we're right.'

'Green Jackets?'

'A local unit. They hate us with a fierce passion – because they know we're the best.' And for once, there was no trace of boasting in Eel's voice. 'They get a sadistic pleasure out of this.'

'This being ...?'

'RTI,' said Lion, F-Unit's leader. 'Resistance to Interrogation. It's training, in case we're ever taken hostage out on the field.'

Greg blinked. 'Wait, let me get this straight ... British soldiers are attacking British soldiers because it's _training_?' As if he needed any more reasons to hate the world he'd been thrown in.

Eel gave a bitter laugh. 'You sound so surprised. Don't they teach you this stuff at MI6?'

He was immediately hit over the head as Falcon hissed at him to shut up. 'You idiot, they might've bugged the place!'

'Sorry,' muttered Eel.

'Hang on,' said Greg with a frown as he finally looked around. 'Where's Spider?'

At that moment, the solid metal doors to wherever-the-hell-they-were slid open very noisily, and Spider was thrown in. Falcon managed to catch the man before he smacked into the ground. Outside, mocking laughter could be heard as the doors were locked once more.

'What happened to you?' said Eel.

'What do you think?' snapped Spider, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

'Why are you wet?' asked Falcon.

'New technique this year. They seem to think half-drowning us will work much better than brute force.' Spider turned to Greg with a very grim look in his eyes. 'You'd better be careful Pup. That tub is deeper than you are tall; if they can hold me down in it, they'll have no problem with you. Three minutes, remember?'

_Three minutes to drown_.

Greg nodded, as the doors were slid open once more, and all hell descended into the room. 'Grab the kid!' came the order from one of the Green Jackets, and F-Unit rose as one to buy Greg some time, despite knowing full well how futile that action would be.

Falcon took the chaos to whisper into Greg's ear: 'Don't say anything or we'll all be binned.'

He only had time to nod his understanding, before someone had grabbed his arm, and wrestled him forcibly from the room. The night air was cold and crisp, and Greg was hardly dressed for the temperature. As a result, he was shivering very badly by the time they'd reached the half-derelict barn that was being used as the interrogation site. Inside there was a single naked light bulb, along with a structure the size of a small pool that had been filled to the brim with water.

'Aright, in you go,' one of the Green Jackets grinned, tossing Greg in as if he were a dog that needed cleaning.

The water was _freezing_.

It stole all the air from his lungs, even as he desperately tried to get out. He breeched the surface with a gasp, spluttering and coughing and _needing to get out_.

There was laughter in the room. 'Aww, the little schoolboy can't handle a bit of water.'

_I'd like to see you try_, Greg couldn't help but think.

'Tell you what kid. If you answer our questions, we'll let you go. How's that for a deal, eh?'

Greg didn't bother to answer, focussing all his energy on staying afloat.

'So, what's your name?' the Green Jacked asked with a sneer.

'I-I c-c-can't tell y-y-y-you,' Greg said, teeth chattering from the cold.

'Wrong answer.'

And with that, hands were on top of Greg's head, forcing him back down into the freezing depths. He barely had enough time to fill his lungs. It made no difference though; the water was quickly freezing any air he had out of his body. Greg fought with his captor, twisting and turning, desperately trying to break free. Huge bursts of precious air escaped through his mouth. Vaguely, he noticed his vision dimming ... then again, the water was quite dark.

It was becoming rather hard to move his limbs; he felt as if he were dragging his arms through mud. Eventually, he just gave that up; he wasn't even aware of his eyes slowly fluttering close.

Suddenly, he was being dragged up through the water by his hair. At that moment, he didn't even care about the stinging pain as several strands of hair left his scalp. Air, beautiful air was filling his lungs, replacing the water that had sneakily crept in.

Dimly, he was aware of someone shouting, saying that that had been too close, and to not let it happen again. He couldn't be sure though; there was a strange buzzing in his ear, and his limbs felt rather heavy.

He was dragged out of the pool and back to the barn that held his unit. Wordlessly he was shoved inside, the door slamming shut behind him with a bang.

'Pup!' It was Falcon who managed to catch his team mate once more. 'Holy hell ...'

'Surely this is illegal,' muttered Spider.

'I doubt those Green Jackets would care,' scoffed Eel.

'Alright guys, back off the kid,' said Lion, stepping in and crouching beside the blinking Greg. 'How're you holding up, Pup?'

'Um ...'

'Falcon?'

'He's good. A little disorientated – not sure how long they would've held him under for.'

Lion nodded. 'Give him some time to recover.'

'I'm fine,' said Greg, shaking his head. 'I'm ... I don't want to be that cold ever again.'

'If you get us out of here, I'll buy you thick coats every year for the rest of my life,' Eel proposed.

Lion shushed him, before turning to Greg, giving him a look as if sizing him up. 'Look Pup, we've found a way out.'

'Really?' said Greg, hope and relief warming his veins faster than any number of clothes.

But Lion had a rather grim look on his face. 'You're the only one small enough to fit through it; and even then, it looks like it'll be a tight squeeze. I don't want to pressure you into this, especially after what you just went through –'

'I'll do it,' interrupted Greg. 'Anything to get back at those sadistic b –'

'Okay, let's go before the kid starts swearing!' Spider said loudly, cutting Greg off.

Falcon rolled his eyes, before helping Greg up and guiding him over to a man-hole in the ground, one that Greg had initially missed when he'd first woken up in that place. 'I don't know if you've ever heard of Cub before, but he's basically SAS folklore. One of the stories we've been told is that he escaped during RTI through a man-hole. Which means that this definitely leads to the outside.'

'It's very dark,' Lion said. 'None of us have any sort of light, so if you crawl through there you'll be doing it blind. We'll try talk you through it, but once you're in, you're basically on your own.'

Greg chewed on his lip as he knelt down beside the recently-uncovered man-hole. The thick nauseating smell of chemicals made him sick to his stomach. It looked so small; once he was in, the only way out was forward. Into the dark.

A hand was laid on his shoulder. 'None of us will think any less of you if you back out,' said Spider.

But Greg shook his head. 'No, I'll do it.'

If he were completely honest with himself, he would've said that he was doing this less for escaping, and more for following in Cub's footsteps. Cub ... Alex Rider ... maybe his – Greg shook his head. It was now or never.

'We'll keep talking to you, unless one of the Green Jackets comes back,' murmured Lion.

'Okay. Let's go.'

But it was easier said than done. Getting into the tunnel itself was rather tricky. Greg had to lie on his stomach and wriggle forwards, while his teammates tried not to laugh at his imitation of a snake. Even worse, once he'd entered into the man-hole, everything turned pitch black. It was like light never even existed in that tunnel. Greg couldn't even see the hand that he was desperately waving in front of his face. And then Lion's voice broke through his self-induced haze of panic.

'Come on Pup, keep going.'

The man's voice sounded so much like it did during training, when he was pushing Greg past his limits; he expected to be obeyed. It was that familiarity that soothed over the boy's initial panic. Taking a deep breath, which he regretted once the thickening smell of chemicals filled his nostrils, Greg forced himself deeper and deeper into the dark. The floor of the tunnel was wet, slippery even, allowing Greg to slide forwards. It was one of the few things he was thankful of at that moment.

'How're you doing?' Lion's voice echoed through the dark.

'Ju-ust great.' No one commented on how shaky his voice sounded at that moment.

'You must be almost halfway there by now,' said Falcon.

'Sure why not –' Greg suddenly broke off as his hand passed over something cold and metal-like in the tunnel.

'Pup? _Pup_?' Lion was calling him, sounding more and more worried.

'Hm? Oh, yeah, I'm still here.'

'Don't scare us like that!' Eel said.

'Sorry. It's just ... I've found something.' Greg frowned in the dark, his fingers blindly tracing the cold metal object. It was cylindrical, with one end that was slightly enlarged. There was a notch on the side. Greg dug his fingernail into the notch, pushing and pulling until something gave way.

And suddenly, the entire tunnel was filled with light.

'I've found a torch!' Greg exclaimed, surprised.

'Really?'

'Yeah!'

'But, who could've possibly left their torch there?' asked Spider.

'Oh, don't complain – Pup, can you see the exit?' said Falcon.

Greg shone the torch down the tunnel. It seemed to continue straight, before coming to an abrupt halt. 'Um, I think so.'

'Keep going then! You're almost there!' urged Lion.

It was with renewed hope that Greg crawled forwards, the light giving him more encouragement than his teammates ever could. 'I think there's something covering the exit!'

Someone swore – it sounded like Spider. 'If it's anything like the cover on this side, it'll be very hard to open.'

'Brilliant,' muttered Greg, dropping the torch as he put both hands above his head. The cold metal pressed back, reminding him unpleasantly of the water those Green Jackets had almost drowned him in. Using all that anger, he pushed up, shoving with all the strength possessed by a fourteen year old almost-spy.

There was no movement.

'Come on,' Greg grunted. 'Budge!'

There was a grating sound as the cover shifted a fraction of an inch. But that was enough for Greg to get a firmer hold on the blasted thing. He shoved it forwards, upwards, outwards ... and finally, it moved.

At once, the cold crisp night air filled the tunnel. And not half an hour ago, when Greg had been cursing the cold air, now he was celebrating his victory.

'I'm out!' he hissed down the tunnel. Cheers echoed back as he crawled out, tossing the torch back into the tunnel before sliding the cover over the man-hole once more. In the darkness, soaked through in mud and slime and smelling absolutely disgusting, Greg smirked. He would go rescue his unit soon. But first...

It's payback time.

.

The Dux Hotel was a rather grand-looking thing, with pillars and arches that gave the place an old-world feel. It was definitely something that left tourists in awe. Too bad they weren't tourists.

Alex Rider entered the hotel as inconspicuously as he could, on the off-chance that someone present had photographic memory and somehow managed to place his face with the photos of his murder fourteen years ago. Unfortunately for him, Ben Daniels had no such concerns.

'Ah, excuse me ma'am,' he grinned as he walked up to the counter, not even bothering to keep his voice down. Alex just hung back, keeping an eye out for danger while Ben did his thing.

The brunette lady looked up with a well-practiced smile. 'Hello, and welcome to the Dux Hotel. How may I help you?'

'Well, you see ... Elise,' said Ben, quickly checking the name on the woman's tag while keeping the charming smile on his face. 'I'm actually looking for someone in this hotel, and I was wondering if you could help me? He's my nephew you see, rather cheeky little guy, refused to tell me which room he's in.'

'I'm sorry sir –'

'Please, call me Ben.'

' – but it is against hotel policy to give out guest room numbers,' she continued, ignoring the interruption.

'That's fine, I understand. Would you at least be able to see if he's checked in? Just so I have some peace of mind.' And though Ben was still smiling his bright smile, only an idiot would've missed the threatening undertone to his voice.

Thank goodness for them that Elise, the counter lady, was no such idiot.

'I think I would be able to do that,' she said, turning to the computer. 'What did you say your nephew's name was?'

'Drew. Drew Wood,' smiled Ben.

'Okay ... Oh, Mr Wood never checked in to the hotel. It says that he left us a message, informing us he would be staying with a relative.'

It was now that Elise began throwing Ben slightly suspicious looks. Not that he noticed. At that moment, the MI6 agent was rather stumped, their only lead cut-off so abruptly and unexpectedly (well okay, if he'd been honest with himself, he was actually expecting something like this to happen).

'Well, thank you very much for your ti –'

'Hang on,' interrupted Alex, stepping forwards. 'Would we be able to listen to this recording?'

'I can't just breach one of our client's privacy like that!' Elise looked rather affronted. 'Look, I don't know who you two are, but I think you should leave before I call security.'

Ben's mouth tightened into a grim line, all traces of his previous charismatic nature gone. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out the badge Alex had told him to just use in the first place. 'Elise, I haven't been totally honest with you. I'm Agent Ben Daniels, this is my partner Alex Rider.'

The counter lady looked rather shocked at actually seeing an MI6 badge up close.

'We need that information; it is a matter of national security. You understand, right?'

'O-of course!' said Elise shakily. 'Le-let me just go get the manager ...'

As the lady scampered off, Alex turned to Ben with a raised eyebrow. '"A matter of national security"? _Really_ Ben?'

The man shrugged, amused. 'Couldn't resist.'

In no time Elise was back, the manager in tow. Alex and Ben were quickly shown into the backroom.

'The recording is just here,' said the manager, showing them how to work the phone. 'I'll just give you gentlemen some privacy then.'

'Thanks,' murmured Ben, already fixated on the phone. Alex took that as a sign to press play. Immediately a voice filled the room, one that could've belonged only to a man. And though that meant he should've been disappointed, Alex couldn't help but think how _familiar_ that voice was.

'_Hey Dux Hotel. It's me, Drew Wood. Listen, I was supposed to check in earlier today, but I'm actually going to be staying with some of my relatives. So yeah, I'm not going to be needing a room with you guys after all. Thanks anyway. Peace out.'_

Ben's eyebrows rose in surprise. '"Peace out"? Who even says that these days?'

While Ben was contemplating on the caller's seemingly ancient way of speech, Alex was busy carefully breaking apart the telephone, so that he would be able to connect a tiny bug (that Ben just _happened_ to have lying around) into the thing's internal circuitry, before putting it all back together again.

'Come on,' muttered Alex. 'We're done here. Let's go.'

They bid the manager of the hotel and the counter lady farewell, with Ben tossing her an extra smile in apology for scaring her.

'I'm calling Rose,' said Ben, his phone already to his ear. 'Hey, Rose?'

'_Did you get it_?'

'No, he – she – whatever, wasn't there. Alex bugged the phone; feel free to trace the call.'

'_Already on it_.'

'We'll see you in about fifteen then.'

'_Wait, can you do me a favour first?'_

'Depends,' said Ben shrewdly. 'Does it involve stripping or humiliation?'

'_No, no, once was enough. No, I was just wondering if you'd be able to drop by my parents' house and check up on my nephew?_'

'Yeah, we can do that. See you in forty then.'

Ben pocketed his phone, giving Alex a nod just as the two stepped out of the hotel.

It was then that they were unexpectedly set upon by several armed men, and all hell broke loose.

.

Desiree Swan, her hair blonde once more (she'd managed to wash out the temporary dye that had coloured it black), looked up from where she'd spent the morning kneeling on the ground, cleaning, as Tom entered the room carrying freshly packaged sandwiches and looking rather pleased with himself.

'Did you make the call?' she asked before he could get in a word.

Tom looked rather affronted. 'Of course I did! I'm not _that_ incompetent.'

'No, of course not,' said Dessi dryly as Tom lobbed her a sandwich before tripping over nothing and sprawling onto the ground, somehow sliding several feet before he finally came to a stop.

It was as Tom got back up to his feet, grumbling under his breath about impudent spies, that he noticed the change in his house. 'Um Dessi? Were you cleaning?'

'Well done Tom. Brilliant observation there. By the way, I threw out that disgusting knife you tried to mug me with.'

Tom just blinked at the woman. 'But ... _why_?'

'Because you have two other knifes that we can use to cook with.'

'No, not the knife – I meant, why are you _cleaning_?'

Dessi shrugged, tying off another garbage bag. 'Plenty of reasons. I'm pretty sure there was a new ecosystem living in the rubbish. You couldn't actually see the floor. The place smelt disgusting. Also ...' here, she hesitated, before sighing, 'it helped me think about what I should do next.'

'And what are you planning on doing next?' asked Tom, sitting down next to her.

'I've got to keep the NCIS team updated. Maybe ask them to find Jack – apparently, she's moved back to America,' said Dessi. 'Hopefully she'll at least have heard of where Alex has been.'

'Yeah,' said Tom, 'but what are _you_ planning on doing next? I may not know you as well as Alex did, but I know spies. And they're never content to just sit back and wait for everyone else to give them the answers.'

Dessi laughed. 'Congratulations Harris. You are now smarter than a fifth grader.'

'Well?' prompted Tom, ignoring the barb.

'I'm going after my son.'

'You're going to break into MI6?' Tom stared.

'If that's what it takes,' said Dessi grimly.

'You are crazy.'

.

Screams filled the air as the bullets rained down, taking huge chunks out of the entrance of the Dux Hotel. Alex and Ben threw themselves behind the nearest pillar, miraculously escaping the initial wave of the attack. Many bystanders weren't so lucky; several were on the ground, crying in pain. No amount of money in the world could've forced Alex to look at the little girl who gazed up at the sky with unseeing eyes, lying in a pool of her own blood. Beside him, having caught sight of the girl, Ben swore very rapidly under his breath.

'Here,' he said, tossing Alex one of his backup weapons. 'Still remember the first rule of a standoff?'

'Minimise civilian casualties,' said Alex.

Ben nodded. 'Let's do this.'

The second there was a lapse in the number of bullets being sent their way, Alex and Ben leapt out from behind the pillar. While the MI6 agent began to herd the bystanders away, Alex provided the man with a burst of cover fire. To his amazement, he found that, even after all these years, his aim had not deteriorated one little bit.

_Rather like riding a bike_, some foreign, detached corner of his brain muttered.

One by one, their attackers fell, unable to evade the deadly precision of Alex's Scorpia-honed skills. Those left standing quickly found themselves cover, realising that their task wasn't easy as they first thought it would be.

'Clear!' shouted Ben.

Immediately, Alex rolled back behind the pillar, ducking to avoid the stray piece of shrapnel that almost took his eye out.

'How many you got left?' panted Ben.

'One. You?'

'Dry.'

'Crap.'

'Yeah,' snorted Ben, 'you can say that again.'

'So, plan B then?' asked Alex, stretching out his arms.

'Pretty much. How many of them are left?'

'Three. Or four,' Alex shrugged. 'We can take them.'

Ben snuffed a laugh that would've definitely been inappropriate in their current circumstance. 'Famous last words much?'

Alex didn't get time to reply. Their attackers had seemingly grown tired of waiting for the two to re-emerge from their pillar, and had decided to gang up on them and hopefully take them by surprise. They were, of course, once again underestimating their opponents. So when one of the men was close enough to reach out and yank Alex out into the open, he was not expecting a fist to the nose in retaliation.

With a shout of pain the man – Blood-Nose – let him go. Ben jumped out then, throwing himself at Beanie when he tried to sneak up behind Alex. And while the two remaining men, Tweedledum and Tweedle-Dumber, were staring at Ben and Beanie in surprise, Alex took his chance.

Ready.

Aim.

Fire.

With a howl, Tweedle-Dumber dropped to the ground, clutching at his knee. He would never walk normally again. At that moment though, Alex was hardly one to care.

'_Now_ I'm dry,' he yelled to the very occupied Ben, who was currently trying to avoid being strangled, before hurling the empty gun at Blood-Nose and knocking the man out.

'Good for you!' Ben shouted back, lashing out at Beanie and catching him across the face.

Alex turned to face Tweedledum just in time to see the man flying towards him. Next moment, Alex hit the ground hard, winded as a result of feeling the full force of Tweedledum's weight crushing against his chest. The man was bearing down on him, suffocating Alex with his weight and extremely bad body odour. Something came into contact with one of Alex's flailing arms. It felt like it could've been a rock, or a chip off one of the pillars that had been blasted apart. Either way, he grabbed the thing and brought it sharply into contact with Tweedledum's temple.

The man reared back in surprise; Alex couldn't tell if he'd felt the pain or not. But he didn't stick around to find out. Bucking his hips up, he managed to dislodge the man. They both scrambled up to their feet, panting. From seemingly nowhere, Tweedledum pulled out a small pocketknife. With a roar, the man charged forward, slashing at Alex in a series of rapid moves that forced the man to continuously dodge backwards.

_At this rate, I'm going to be cut to pieces!_ He thought furiously, ducking a particularly vicious attack. It was then of course, that he found the opening he needed.

Coming up under Tweedledum, Alex grabbed the man's wrist and twisted his arm around at a most painful angle. A quick addition of pressure and Tweedledum dropped the pocketknife right into Alex's waiting hand.

'Thanks,' he said cheerfully, before smashing the blunt end of the pocketknife right into Tweedledum's temple, breaking the knife into a hundred little pieces. Tweedledum blacked out before he hit the ground.

Several shots were fired then; Alex turned in time to see Ben rolling away from Beanie, who had somehow managed to procure a gun. Doing what he did best, and acting before his brain had fully understood the possible consequences, Alex took a running leap for Beanie, wrestling him to the ground just as he was taking aim once more. The gun flew from his hand, and Ben scrambled to pick it up.

'Alex!' he shouted.

Alex looked up, before quickly rolling off Beanie. Ben fired, twice, before dropping the gun to the ground and bracing himself against his knees, panting. Neither man was brave enough to watch the light leave Beanie's eyes.

It was strangely silent, now that the roar of battle had stopped. No one was in sight. The once prestigious front of Dux Hotel was ruined, glass shattered, pillars broken. Around them lay bodies and debris, mingled together as one, all drenched in glistening red blood. The stench of death hung thick in the air, making Alex want to puke as he took in the aftermath. The only one of their would-be killers who was still conscious ... or alive ... was Tweedle-Dumber. And so, it was he who attracted Alex's attention. It seemed he couldn't speak; every time he opened his mouth, only silence would emerge. But he didn't need to be able to speak to deliver written messages, like the one Alex snatched from his hand.

It was a folded piece of paper, with no identifying features. Frowning, he unfolded the thing to reveal the message inside.

_Found you, Rider._

Alex's blood froze, instantly recognising the handwriting. After all, he had been the one to find that note addressed to Dessi in the same handwriting all those years ago, down by the banks of a river.

'Alex? What –?'

'It's from Menten.'

Ben snatched the paper from Alex's numb hands, ripping it to shreds before all but dragging the other man away from the rather bloody and definitely incriminating scene, shoving him into their car before quickly getting in himself and speeding off.

'Get Rose on loudspeaker,' said Ben, throwing his phone to Alex who quickly dialled the number. There was a tense few seconds of silence before Rose picked up.

'_Hey, how did it –'_

'Rose, we ran into a little spot of trouble,' said Ben, swerving to avoid hitting a cyclist.

'_What kind of trouble?_'

'Doesn't matter, you'll find out soon enough. Listen, I'm going to need you to do some damage control. Think you can handle it?'

There was a snort. '_What do you take me for, Ben? An idiot?'_

Ben smiled grimly, but didn't bother answering the obvious rhetorical question. Instead he said: 'Rose, how's your leg doing?'

'_As well as it can be, I suppose. Why?'_

'We're coming to pick you up. I'll tell you the details later, but if you feel up to it, I need you to start packing,' said Ben, turning the corner so sharply that Alex flew against the window. 'We'll be there in ten.'

'_Roger that._' And Rose shut off the phone.

Immediately Alex turned to Ben, feeling like the boy he once was, kept forcefully out of the loop. 'We're leaving? Why?'

'If Menten can track you down to a hotel, he sure as hell will know you're with me,' replied Ben. 'Which means he'll know where I live. I'm not putting us in danger by stupidly staying put. If we get out now, we can play the unknown card and stay safe.'

'Do you even know where we'd go?'

'Nope. I'm hoping Rose will have that part figured out.'

'I sure hope so,' muttered Alex, turning to look out the window. It was then that a thought came to him, and he whipped around to face Ben with a sudden look of panic in his eyes. 'Wait – what about your family?'

Ben sighed. 'Worst comes to worst, I'll extend their holiday. There'll still be in Italy for the next week and a half; hopefully, that'll be enough time to get Menten off our trail.'

They pulled up outside Ben's apartment about three minutes later. The two hurried upstairs, where they found Rose half collapsed on the ground, grimacing in pain. Around her lay boxes of neatly packed files and equipment; it looked like she'd stripped Ben's apartment clear.

'You over did yourself,' said Ben, rolling his eyes.

'Save the lecture,' scowled Rose. 'I erased your stunning performance in front of that hotel, by the way. Sweet moves Alex.'

Despite the moment, Alex laughed. 'Thanks.'

'Alright Alex,' said Ben, 'you grab the boxes; I'll carry Rose outside.'

Alex looked around at the six heavy boxes with a raised eyebrow. 'You've got to be kidding me.'

'Nope,' said Ben almost cheerfully, picking Rose up easily in his arms. 'Come on; hop to it!'

'I hate you,' grumbled Alex.

Ben did end up coming back to help him, which was a good thing too, since picking up heavy boxes right after a fight wasn't really the best idea. They all piled back into the car, Rose in the back typing furiously away on a laptop. As they pulled out, she looked up at the two with a smirk on her face.

'I know where the call was made!'

.

_Boo-yah, _thirteen_ pages peoples! And everyone's on the run! Well, except Greg ... hm, I might have to change that ..._

_Anyways, __**please **__**REVIEW!**__ Stay tuned for more ;)_

_Love Chariots99_


	12. For Good

**Disclaimer** – I do not, have not, and will not ever own Alex Rider

**Summary** – Unbeknownst to them, all their past adventures had been leading to this point. Because it wasn't fate that brought them together. It was something else. A secret so big, that people would do anything to make sure it stayed just that. Secret. And so came the big question; how far would you go in the name of love? SEQUEL to 'Not Every Story Ends Happily Ever After'

**Chapter warning** – um, yeah, swearing ... so look away ...

To **Janey G**: WHY MUST YOU BE SO KIND? I'm crying now. Thank you so much, you don't know how much your words mean to you. Okay, I need to find a new tissue box ... but THANK YOU ONCE MORE!

I'd also like to take this opportunity to **thank every one of my reviewers**. Without you, I just wouldn't be the writer I am today. Thank you for your continuous support and constructive critic. I love you all, and if I could I would name you (but I don't want to accidentally miss one of you out and leave you thinking that I hate you or something...). Basically, what I'm saying is that I feel so lucky, and so honoured, and so privileged to have such a loyal and so amazing fanbase. Thank you :)

.

**Chapter Twelve – For Good**

The Green Jackets were currently all in their little caravan-like vehicle, joking around, laughing at the torment they were putting the SAS men through. There were four of them, three sitting around a central table while a fourth stood behind a makeshift counter, making the others tea or coffee. None of them knew that just outside their door crouched Gregory Rider who, thanks to being coated with a decades' worth of grime from that man-hole, blended in perfectly with the night.

Greg smirked as he listened in, with no one the wiser. He was lying in wait for the moment their drinks would be ready. Those poor idiots wouldn't know what hit them, and Greg wanted to be around to see it happen.

'Hey, did you guys hear the news?' One of the men spoke up. He had a really low baritone voice, gravelly almost.

'Which one?' Another asked. This sounded exactly like the bastard who'd been taunting Greg while he'd been in that freezing pool. The boy scowled heavily, hoping this man would get the worst of his retaliation.

'The one about the NCIS,' Gravelly replied. 'Apparently they're mustering up a huge search party, but no one's been told who they're looking for.

'Probably for that disgraced MI6 agent,' said Bastard. 'You know, the one who's apparently helping some escaped fugitive.'

Greg was a little startled by this news. How long had he been out here in Breacon Beacons, if he hadn't even heard about an MI6 agent being blacklisted by the Director? But before he could ponder the matter further, another Green Jacket joined the conversation.

'Speaking of fugitives,' Newbie said, 'did you all hear about that murderer from Australia? The one who was pretty big a couple 'o years back, and just recently escaped?'

There was a slight pause, then: 'There was a murderer in Australia?' The fourth man spoke with a strange accent, like a mix between Australian and English.

'You didn't know?'

'No,' said Aussie. 'We didn't hear anything about a murderer. How long ago was this?'

'What, like, fourteen years or somethin',' said Gravelly. 'You seriously didn't hear about her?'

'Her?'

'Yeah, the murderer,' said Newbie. 'You don't get many who are female; probably why it was such big news. Apparently she killed her husband, or boyfriend, or something. Was going for her kid too, but the police arrived in time to stop that from happening. Imagine that, killing your own kid.'

'Man, we didn't hear about this at all! And I was living _in_ Australia fourteen years ago!' There was a pause during which Aussie appeared to be shaking his head. 'I do remember around that time that a young couple disappeared though. They had a child who got stuck into some orphanage. Maybe you were thinking of them?'

'Did they get killed?'

'Well ... I don't think it was ever confirmed, and after a while people forgot about it.'

Someone sighed. 'Oh well, the past is the past.'

'Agreed. Now, here's to havin' some fun for the rest of the night!'

There was a round of cheers and clinking of mugs, before the four men downed their drinks. Outside, despite all he had just heard, Greg smirked in the dark. A beat of silence ... then another ... and then:

'I don't really feel too good ...'

'Yeah, I know what you mean – toilet!'

There was a mad scramble as two of the men rushed off to the toilets, reacting to the powerful natural laxative berries that Greg had found growing innocently on one of the trees, before he'd squeezed its clear juice through the open window of the caravan into the then-still-boiling kettle. And now, while the men fought over who would use the one toilet aboard the caravan, Greg quickly darted around to remove all the stops preventing the caravan from moving, and unhooking the automatic hand brake. The doors were firmly locked; he'd made sure of that. Pushing up against the caravan, he heaved with all his might.

'Come ... on ...' he panted. 'Budge!'

But the caravan remained still. Greg bit his lip, throwing his full weight against the thing. He had to get it to move, and quickly, before the men decided to try using the toilets located on Breacon Beacons. The Green Jackets had parked the caravan on a downhill, which meant that if Greg could get the blasted thing to move, gravity would complete the job he had in mind.

'Once more,' he whispered, egging himself on. 'Let's do this!'

And, taking a short run-up, he rammed his shoulder into the caravan, and _pushed_. For a second, nothing happened. Then, an ominous creaking sound echoed through the night, and the wheels of the caravan began to ever so slowly turn.

'Yes, yes!' Greg grinned, taking a step forwards with the caravan. And another. And another.

The caravan was building up speed. Soon, Greg didn't even need to be pushing it for it to be moving, its wheels emitting non-stop creaking as it spun faster and faster, carrying the caravan down the hill and out of Breacon Beacons. It would later crash into several trees in the surrounding forest, before being smashed apart as it hit a pile of boulders serving as a barrier to the steep drop of the cliff.

Greg watched the caravan disappear from sight, before turning and heading back to his teammates. He would greet them with a triumphant grin, happily accepting their congratulations. But once he was back in his own bed, whispers of all he had heard that night would chase each other through his dreams.

He'd thought his revenge would be much more satisfying, but it only left a strange, bittersweet taste in his mouth.

.

'_I know where the call was made!'_

Ben almost crashed the car at that announcement, cringing and waving in apology at the six cars that beeped him.

'Where?' Alex demanded, whipping around to face Rose, whose damaged leg was propped over two seats.

She smiled at him angelically. 'Does "Brooklands" ring a bell?'

Alex stared. 'You have got to be joking.'

'Nope,' said Rose cheerfully. 'It looks like the call was made from a public phone line just down the street from your old school. Ben, you're going the wrong way if you want to get there,' she added, having just looked up their location on the internalised map located on Ben's laptop.

'Give me a break, I don't even know where we are,' said Ben, swinging the car around forcefully and causing Alex to slam into the window. Again.

'If it weren't for the fact that I haven't driven in fourteen years, I would have taken over the wheel a long time ago,' he muttered, rubbing his sore cheek.

Before Ben could apologise, or tell Alex to get over it, Rose had yelled a sharp: 'Turn left!', and Alex found his face being introduced to the window once more.

After about half an hour and countless double-backs "just in case", they finally pulled down a street that Alex distinctly remembered riding down in his youth. While everything looked so different, it was at the same time completely the same. That house had gotten a new coat of paint ... that magnificent tree had been but a sapling all those years ago ... the people who used to live in that house once gave him and Tom a bag of candy each during Halloween...

'Alex?' said Ben softly. 'You alright?'

'Yeah.' Alex ducked his head, trying to control his reactions. Sensibly, neither Rose nor Ben pointed out his overly-bright eyes; instead, the two broke off into a conversation about Rose's nephew, giving Alex time to recover.

'... I'm hoping he's not giving my parents too much trouble,' said Rose.

'After this, I shall personally escort you to your parents',' said Ben.

'Hey, that's my old house!' interrupted Alex, pointing at the familiar place with a bittersweet smile. Until that point, he hadn't quite believed Ben when he'd told him about his housekeeper. But now that he saw his old home, he had to accept that Jack had truly moved out. The place was no longer filled with her radiant, untameable energy; now, it was just a familiar building, surrounded by foreign cars, with a hostile looking garden. Now, more than ever, Alex was beginning to realise just how long he'd been away.

'Maybe you guys should check it out,' suggested Rose. 'Dessi might've dropped by here, thinking she'd be able to find Jack.'

'Better than nothing,' said Ben as he opened the door. 'You can stay in the car if you want, Alex.'

'No, I want to see this,' Alex said, jumping out. _I want to see how much things have changed._

Ben rapped on the front door as Alex did his best not to fidget. When no one answered, he knocked again. And once more. Alex looked around at the three cars parked on the driveway. Whoever lived here now was definitely home.

It wasn't until almost five minutes later that the door swung open and Alex, who was just so used to seeing Jack beaming in the doorway as she welcomed him home, couldn't help but take a startled step back at the balding, overweight man who filled the doorway now.

'Yes?' he grunted, clearly disgruntled.

'MI6,' said Ben with a flourish of his badge. 'I just wanted to ask you some questions.'

'Well, could you hurry it up? I have reruns to get back to,' the man said.

'Of course. I was merely wondering if a woman came to this house in the past few days,' said Ben with a horribly forced smile. 'She would be a little shorter than my partner, blonde hair, blue eyes, and asking after either an Alex Rider, or a Jack Starbright who, I'm sure you're aware, owned this house before you.'

The man grunted again. 'Yeah, had some'un like that not two days ago. Askin' about Jack. But she wasn't no blondie; had black hair.'

'She could've dyed it,' murmured Alex into Ben's ear.

The man waved him away impatiently before asking: 'What about her eyes? Were they blue by any chance?'

'Bright blue,' the balding man confirmed. 'Like crystals. Can't forget 'em.'

'Did you happen to catch where she went afterwards?' said Ben, barely restraining the excitement in his voice.

The man shrugged. 'Seemed like in that direction, but no 'un's really stupid enough to do that, not wi' the muggin's an' all.'

'Right, well, thank you very much for your time,' said Ben. 'Enjoy your afternoon.'

When they were safely in the car once more, Alex turned to Ben with a quizzical look on his face. 'Muggings? This was never a dangerous suburb, not while I was here.'

'Yes well, both you and Dessi seemed to have a perchance for attracting trouble, so I've no doubt she ran into the mugger or whomever is causing trouble around here,' said Ben, pulling out of the driveway.

'I suppose we're checking this out then?' grinned Rose, seemingly excited at the scent of danger.

'Yes. But you'll be staying in the car,' said Ben.

'Spoilsport.'

Ben ignored her, instead turning to Alex with a frown. 'Didn't one of your friends live around here?'

'Tom? Oh yeah, he did ... but I dunno if he'll still be here,' said Alex. 'I take it you guys didn't keep in touch?'

'We did for a little while,' Rose offered. 'But it got harder as the years went by. We were being worked to the bone, and he seemed interested in nothing but partying all day. And night.'

'With Jack gone, no one really had any control over him,' said Ben quietly. 'Neither of his parents would ... well, take responsibility.'

'His parents are divorced,' Alex said.

'I know.'

'Do you know if one of them still lives here?'

'We can check in and see.'

And so, with half remembered directions, they arrived in front of Tom's house. Alex hung back slightly when Ben rapped on the door; he wasn't sure if Tom's parents ever paid any attention to him during their fights, but he didn't want to take the risk.

'Hello?' It was Tom's mum who answered the door. 'Oh, you look really familiar.'

'I knew your son,' said Ben, showing her his badge. 'I was wondering if he still lived here?'

'No, my husband and I kicked him out long ago,' she said, shaking her head. 'He just became too much. He lives down the street now; we thought giving him his own home would build some responsibility, but my husband ended up paying the rent – he's been doing so for the past ten years. Doesn't know how to say "no" to step-kids apparently.'

'I see ... when was the last time you saw Tom?'

'I dunno ... two or three months maybe?' she said, looking slightly guilty. 'He doesn't like us intruding on his privacy.'

'Yeah, that sounds like him. Listen, would you be able to give me the address to Tom's new home? We just really need to ask him a few questions.'

'Of course! Wait – he's not in trouble, is he?'

'No,' said Ben. 'There're just some things he might know, or at least be interested in knowing.'

That was how Alex and Ben (with Rose forced to stay inside the car – against her will, of course) found themselves outside what was supposedly Tom's new home. It honestly looked very old and beat-down, with a crumbling front porch, and he seemed to have done a bit of cleaning recently, if the pile of garbage bags dumped on the lawn was any indication. However, what got the alarm bells ringing wasn't the ready-to-collapse state of the place, or the shattered window that had been fixed with newspaper and duct tape, or even the dead grass covering the lawn. No, it was the slightly bloodied knife peeking out from one of the garbage bags that caught Alex's attention.

'Ben,' he whispered, nodding at the knife.

'Yeah, that's not good,' muttered Ben. 'Here,' he added, handing over his spare weapon once more.

'I'll take the front, you go in from the back?' said Alex.

'Just like old times.'

'Let's do this.'

.

Dessi woke up very suddenly.

For a second, she wasn't sure why. Actually, she wasn't sure why she'd been asleep in the first place, since it was still daytime. But then, after spotting Tom snoring away on the beat-up couch, she remembered that the man took afternoon naps, and she'd been so bored she must've drifted off to sleep too.

It was at that moment that she noticed the figures outside the window, their silhouettes showing through the newspapers that boarded up the broken window.

They were definitely not supposed to be there.

'Tom,' she hissed. 'Tom, _wake up_!'

The boy just mumbled something in his sleep.

'Tom!' Dessi roughly pushed the boy off the couch.

'Wha –?'

'Shhh! There's someone outside,' whispered Dessi.

'Someone's outs –?'

'No time. Is there a back way out of your house?'

'No ... just through the windows, I guess,' said Tom. He looked scared. 'D'you reckon they're here for ... well ... you?'

'I'd rather not think about that right now,' said Dessi grimly, mind working overtime. 'Okay, come on.'

'Des – what are you doing?' Tom protested as she roughly dragged him to his feet before shoving him through his own home. 'Dessi!'

'In here, quickly.'

'The bathroom?'

Dessi rolled her eyes. 'Lock the doors, don't open them for anyone else. If I don't come back in ... let's say five minutes, break open the window and get away. Understand?'

'Yeah,' nodded Tom vigorously. 'What are you going to do?'

'I have no clue,' said Dessi, turning to leave. 'Remember, do not open that door for _anyone_.'

She made her way back to the entrance room, ducking down behind the kitchen counter from where she had full view of the front door. She could hear footsteps on the disintegrating front porch outside, gentle footsteps, as if the intruder was trying to keep their presence secret.

_I need a weapon_, she thought, looking around frantically. The three remaining kitchen knives caught her eye. They looked dangerous to be able to cause at least some distraction. Quickly she grabbed two of them, testing their weight in her hands as she turned to face the door once more. She could hear scuffling sounds from the other side; it seemed someone was testing to see if the door had been locked. But they really didn't need to; the door was so old anyway that Dessi was sure the moment someone kicked it, the whole thing would fall apart.

She was proven correct the next second, as whoever was trying to get in threw their whole weight against that door, ripping the lock right out of the wall and flinging it wide open.

Dessi didn't even give the intruder a chance to get their bearings. The moment they came into view, she hurled the knife across the room, where it embedded itself into the wall right beside the intruder's ear, still quivering from its flight.

Retaliation was immediate, and a hail of deadly accurate bullets were fired her way, forcing her to throw herself down behind the kitchen counter once more. The wall behind her was obliterated, with chunks of plaster showering down on her. There was a split second lull, a tiny breath of air, and she sprung back up, poised to fling the other knife, when her eyes connected with the intruder's.

The knife slipped from her suddenly numb fingers.

She knew those eyes; they were the same ones that had, once upon a time, looked upon her with care, and concern, and love. She was sure, from the amazed expression on his face, that he too recognised her. The gun was lowered. Dessi stepped out from behind the counter, about to make her way to him when his eyes suddenly focussed on something behind her, a horrified blaze ignited within their depths.

'Wait – Ben, no!'

Dessi spun in time to see a very familiar and much older than she remembered Agent Ben Daniels swinging something through the air.

The next moment, the grip of his gun collided with her temple, and she instantly blacked out.

.

The strangely comforting snores of soldiers filled the cabin, swelling around Greg like some bizarre orchestra. For his part though, Greg lay wide awake, staring blankly up at the ceiling.

'_We didn't hear anything about a murderer_.'

In the darkness, Greg sighed, confused beyond reason.

.

Dessi woke with a groan, her hand clutching at her throbbing head.

'What on earth ...' she muttered, finding herself spread-eagle on the cold, stone ground. Someone gently brushed her hand aside, before pressing a blessedly cool object against her temple. She was so thankful she could've kissed them.

'Hey, are you alright?'

'Yeah,' she said, slowly cracking open her eyes.

Warm brown ones met her own as Alex Rider knelt by her side, holding the cold-pack in place. He smiled. 'Hello Dessi.'

Dessi had to blink, multiple times, to make sure she wasn't hallucinating. But no, the memories came flooding back as to exactly why she was lying on the ground in pain. Therefore, understandably, when Ben came into view with an apologetic expression on his face, she lunged for him. Of course, having just been knocked out in a rather brutal fashion, her sudden movement cause a particularly fierce jolt of pain to shoot through her head, thwarting her attempt to strangle the MI6 agent as she crumpled within herself, squeezing her eyes shut and clutching at her head.

Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her closer, pressing a cold-pack back against her temple. Instinctively she curled closer to that familiar warmth, and the throbbing pain inside her head faded away to nothing.

Tilting her head slightly so that she could see Ben, Dessi sent the man her best glare. 'Damnit Daniels, I am going to kill you.'

Alex chuckled. 'Run Ben, run while you can.'

'While you're at it, fix my window!' chimed in Tom, who was lounging on his couch once more.

_Wait ..._

'Tom!' Dessi barked. 'I thought I told you not to come out for anyone!'

'Yeah, but it's Alex!' said Tom earnestly, gesturing at his best friend. 'He's not just _anyone_.'

'What if it wasn't him?' said Dessi, leaning against Alex's shoulder. 'What if it were just someone who wanted to draw you out?'

'Well, I checked to make sure,' said Tom.

'He did,' Alex confirmed, his voice gentle against her ear. 'Still remembered the code and everything.'

'What are friends for,' grinned Tom.

Dessi contemplated Alex for a moment, before twisting awkwardly in his grasp so that she could return the hug. Dimly, she was aware of Ben awkwardly clearing his throat, and dragging a protesting Tom out of the room to give the two some privacy.

'It's good to see you again,' she murmured into his ear. Pulling back, Dessi proceeded to examine the man who now sat in front of her. He may have put on weight since his escape, but to Dessi he still looked a lot thinner than was otherwise healthy. 'What happened to you?'

'I could ask you the same thing,' said Alex, closely examining her eyes. 'There's something missing ...'

'Well, about ten kilograms is missing from you,' said Dessi, poking him in the stomach.

'I guess we've both got stories to tell then,' Alex smiled.

There was a moment's pause, in which they looked at each other, before they both simultaneously spoke.

'You first.'

.

Wolf sighed as he finished reading the report. When he'd accepted the role of Sergeant, he knew it wasn't going to be easy. But in five years, he'd never once had to deal with this much havoc.

'Sir?' said the soldier who'd brought him the report.

'Dismissed,' replied Wolf, nodding at the soldier's salute and waving him out his office. It was only then that Wolf allowed his previous mask of emptiness to slide from his face. He slid further down his seat with a groan, letting the report fall onto his desk. 'I can't believe this.'

'I know,' Shark grinned. 'And I can honestly say that I didn't see that coming.'

Wolf shot him a glare. 'You don't have to fill in all this paperwork! Stop looking so happy!'

'Hey, can you really blame me?' said Shark. 'I've always hated those Green Jackets, especially after my own RTI. To have them brought down a peg or two, especially by a fourteen year old boy, is cause for celebration.'

He was ignored as Wolf began muttering to himself. 'Three in hospital, out of commission for at least six months. Laxatives and broken bones – humiliation and pain! Those local units are not going to be pleased – I might need to tighten security, just to make sure they don't try anything funny.'

'You realise MI6 will need to know about this little incident, right?' said Shark.

That caught Wolf off guard. The man paused. 'Yeah ... didn't think about that part.'

'Are you going to tell them?'

'Do I have a choice?'

'There's always a choice.' Shark levelled a look at the Sergeant. 'You know full well what will happen to Pup if you tell them the truth. Do you want that on your conscience?'

'You never exactly objected to all the other ones,' said Wolf. Nonetheless, he was distinctly uncomfortable with the thought of sending a report that so prominently demonstrated Pup's skill. It was the first time he'd ever really felt protective over any of the kids MI6 sent his way. He sighed.

It was time to take sides.

Whatever his next move would be, he would have to defend it to the death. And though it meant potential loss of his job, not to mention potential criminal charges and jail time, Wolf had long ago made up his mind about which particular path to take should he ever be faced with such a choice.

The Sergeant took a deep breath, before turning to Shark with a steely look of determination in his eyes. 'Deal with the Green Jackets, and make sure F-Unit keep their mouths shut. I don't want any of this is getting back to MI6. Not in the near future.'

'Why not?' It looked like Shark knew the answer; he just wanted to hear it out loud.

'His actions would be interpreted as him being "ready",' said Wolf, allowing a grim smile to taint his expression. 'I want that boy under our protection, and I want to keep him there for as long as I can. And if that means lying to an all powerful Intelligence Agency, then so be it.'

Shark grinned. 'Getting soft in old age?'

'Shut up and go do your job.'

.

The rest of the afternoon had been spent with Dessi and Alex each exchanging stories and getting reacquainted with each other, while the others set up camp. Rose took over the couch, her injury giving her priority, as a fort of files and intelligence was piled around her. She and Ben spent the rest of the day trying to hack into MI6; even now, as the sun set and night approached, they were still carefully navigating the maze that was the MI6 firewall. Tom sat in the corner, mindlessly flipping through some of the stray files, nodding along to the beat of the radio playing softly by his side. Dessi, who knew the house maybe even better than Tom, began to intruder-proof the place with the new equipment brought in by Ben, while Alex had been ordered to fix the front door ('You kicked it down, you put it back up,' Tom had said).

And so, when evening began to set in, and Dessi went looking for Alex, it was no surprise to find him out on the front porch.

He was leaning against the railing and looking out at the sunset that painted the sky with red and gold. Quietly, Dessi padded outside to join him, revelling in the strong, steady warmth that he provided against the dark and the cold. And as beautiful as the sunset was, she couldn't tear her eyes from his face.

He looked so different.

So much older, so much wiser. There was a hardness in his eyes, a cold glint that had never been so pronounced. But there was a softness there too, a familiar warmth hidden in those brown depths as he tilted his head down to gaze at her inquisitively.

She just shook her head at his unasked question, a small smile playing on her lips as they both looked out into the sunset once more.

_I've heard it said that people come into our lives for a reason_

_Bringing something we must learn_

_And we are led to those who help us most to grow_

_If we let them and we help them in return_

'Dessi?'

'Hm?'

There was a pause, in which it seemed as if Alex were trying to figure out how best to phrase whatever was on his mind. Finally, he gave up with a sigh. 'You said that you couldn't remember anything. Nothing about spies, or your past ... or me.'

'Yeah.'

'So how did you escape?'

Dessi looked up, crystal blue eyes confused. 'Escape what?'

'The ... hospital.'

'Oh.' And Dessi's eyebrows met in a wrinkled frown. 'Oh.'

'Yeah.'

'I ... well ... I ...' Dessi let out a deep breath. 'I saw you. Outside my window.'

That was definitely not the response Alex was expecting. 'Wait – what?'

'Well, obviously it wasn't you, I mean, since ... you know,' said Dessi awkwardly. 'But not only that, you were ... so much younger. You looked even younger than when I first met you, all those years ago. So carefree, so happy. I knew what I was seeing couldn't have been real, but I just kept ... looking. I couldn't help myself.'

'And ...?'

'And ... there was a group of kids running around you, looking up at you like you were their hero.'

'Which hasn't yet happened in my memory,' said Alex with a smile, one that was returned.

'Well, whatever it was ... an illusion ... hallucination ... it – something inside me clicked,' Dessi shrugged helplessly. 'It felt like I had a tiny, inconsequential speck of light in my hand, and I was trying to see through complete darkness with it. I knew I had to get out, to escape. I didn't know why, but I knew it was urgent.'

'You couldn't remember anything?'

Dessi shook her head. 'I didn't even realise my hallucination was you, not until a few days ago. All I knew at the time was that you ... my hallucination ...was so familiar. Like something out of a dream.'

'What happed next?'

'Well, it gets a little blurry,' laughed Desiree softly. 'I remember climbing out the window. There was a tree that grew outside; I must've used that somehow. I remember pulling twigs from my hair. And well ... you know the rest.'

'Yeah.'

_Well I don't know if I believe that's true_

_But I know I'm who I am today because I knew you_

'We'll find him.'

Alex wasn't sure which of them spoke. It could've been both. It could've been neither, and merely their hearts beating as one. But nonetheless, he continued.

'I know we will.'

'I hope he doesn't hate us,' whispered Dessi.

'He won't, if he's anything like you,' said Alex confidently.

But Dessi snorted. 'I would hate us. I don't think you would though.'

'I suppose we'll just have to wait and see,' he replied.

'Yeah.'

The sun disappeared beneath the horizon. Above them, the stars began to twinkle, lighting up the sky. Dessi let her head fall hesitantly onto Alex's shoulder, worried he'd push her away. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her, pulling her into a familiar, warm embrace.

'I've never felt so safe,' whispered Dessi, her eyes closed and expression relaxed.

Alex just smiled, dropping a kiss into her extremely roughly cut and still dye-streaked hair.

When Dessi tilted her head up to look at Alex, she suddenly found herself just a hair's width away from his lips.

They both froze, their eyes silently asking for permission.

There was a force between them, tugging at them, unable to be denied.

Slowly, the two leaned in, their eyes fluttering shut, their breaths quickening in anticipation.

_Who can say if I've been changed for the better_

And then the door to the porch opened with a sharp crack, and Ben's voice ringed out in the darkness. 'You two better get inside; we've found something I think you should see,' he said, before disappearing back into the house.

The moment gone, Alex and Dessi unravelled themselves from the other, both hearts heavy with disappointment.

_They'd been so close ..._

Dessi was the first to make her way inside. She paused at the door, looking back to the dark shape that was Alex. 'Are you coming?'

There was a pause – she thought she saw him smile – before a warm hand slipped into hers, and a soft voice whispered into her ear: 'Of course.'

_But, because I knew you, I have been changed for good_

There were quite a few hidden smiles and knowing smirks throughout the room when Alex and Dessi walked in hand-in-hand. Alex just rolled his eyes at their immaturity, whacking Tom over the head when the man began to open his mouth.

'So?' Dessi asked, sitting down next to Alex. 'What did you find?'

Rose bit her lip. 'We ... well, we were monitoring the airwaves of MI6, internal and external ...'

'And ...?' said Alex slowly, secretly rather impressed by just how far her hacking skills had come since he'd first met the other woman.

'And ... um ...' Rose exchanged glances with Ben, before reaching over to her computer. 'I think it's something you should hear for yourselves. This one is an incoming transmission signal ... from the SAS,' she added hesitantly, before pressing play. Immediately, white noise filled the room as callous greetings were exchanged.

'_What news do you have?'_

'_Your boy spy wasn't hurt during RTI. Nothing significant happened.'_

'_... Keep an eye on him.'_

'_Will do.'_

The call cut off. 'Yes, that was Mrs Jones,' said Rose.

'And yes, that was Wolf,' added Ben with a bare hint of a smirk.

'And there's more,' said Rose before either Dessi or Alex could comment. 'Exactly three seconds after this call ended, an internal emergency call was made from Mrs Jones to Mr Blunt. And yes, he is still the Director,' she added with a pointed look in Alex's direction.

'_Yes?'_

'_We've just got back the RTI report.'_

'_And?'_

There was something akin to a sigh. _'If the Rider boy doesn't improve soon, we're going to need to send in one of the other boys – we don't have forever on this.'_

Rose cut off the recording as the room all but exploded with noise.

'_Rider?_' shouted Alex. 'They have –!'

'Are they trying to replace you or something?' asked Tom, his face furious; he too remembered the toll Alex's "job" had taken on the growing boy when he was in school.

'Those conniving, blackmailing bastards!' raged Desiree, angry beyond belief. Even if that wasn't Greg, whoever's life MI6 had stolen was still just a child.

'And that's not the worst of it.' It was Ben's grim voice that caught all their attentions. 'I think we can assume that "Rider boy" is Gregory. But by the sounds of what Mrs Jones says afterwards, it looks like they've got more than just one child training as agents.'

The room erupted again with furious indignation. Both Ben and Rose seem to be voicing sudden understanding at why they had, on more than one occasion, seen children running around in the Bank. Tom was shouting rather obscene things at the laptop for bringing them such news, while Alex looked as if he was ready to murder someone – namely, Blunt. However, Dessi appeared as if she'd all but zoned out of the conversation, blankly staring at the wall opposite her.

In actual fact, it seemed as if something in Ben's statement had acted as a trigger, for now, in front of Dessi's eyes flashed images and memories and laughter and playful taunts and she had no clue what was happening as she was drawn within the puzzle of her mind.

_She was at the beach. Or at least ... she thought she was. She could feel the sand beneath her feet, between her toes. Cool water lapped at her heels; quickly, she darted out of its reach, and the waves withdrew in disappointment._

_The sun was shining in her eyes, thwarting her attempt to take a look around. So she just walked, following a strangely familiar path up the beach. It took some time for her to realise that she was wet. It didn't take quite as long for her teeth to start chattering, as her body reacted to a cold not even the sun could cure._

_She stopped walking. She wasn't entirely sure why. It just felt like wherever her feet had taken her was the place she needed to be._

_Suddenly, someone wrapped a towel around her freezing wet frame, causing her to start rather badly. She tried to crane her neck upwards to catch a glimpse of the person, but their face was thrown into shadows by the sun. An amused voice echoed through her thoughts, so familiar, yet so foreign._

'_Played the hero again ...'_

Someone was shaking her. Slowly at first, then increasingly frantic.

'– Dessi? –'

'– is she alright? –'

'– what's happening?–'

And then a warm hand gripped onto hers once more, drawing her out of her memories and back into reality.

'Desiree?'

Dessi's eyes finally moved from the point which they had been fixated to for the past five minutes, darting across to meet worried brown ones. She blinked, twice, before recognition flooded into their previously blank depths.

'... Alex?'

The entire room breathed a sigh of relief as Alex drew her into his arms. 'You gave us all a scare.'

'Wh – why? What happened?' asked Dessi.

'Well you ... you kinda zoned out,' said Tom. 'Like ... _majorly_.'

'Nothing could snap you out of it,' said Ben.

'We weren't sure if you were having a panic attack or something,' added Rose.

'Are you okay?' asked Alex quietly.

Dessi blinked at them, before forcing a smile onto her face. 'Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just ... tired, is all.'

.

_...SEVENTEEN EFFING PAGES! I'm so proud of myself, and I think you all should be too (haha)._

_Anyways, I'm just going to run off and hide so that I'm not murdered because of the fifteen different cliffies that are currently present (and yes, I exaggerate). _

_**Please REVIEW!**__ I would love to hear your thoughts ;)_

_Another thing is; as you all no doubt know, this is going to be my last story. However, I still want to write after I finish this series. So, I'm planning on maybe a series of behind the scenes stories? What do you guys think? Maybe also like, if one of you have a question about an issue I haven't exactly addressed, or if there's a scene you've always wanted to see happen, then let me know and I can write those as well? Anyways, let me know what you all think!_

_Love Chariots99_


	13. The Unexpected Allies

_**Merry (very late) Christmas and a Happy (late) New Year everybody! All the best for 2012!**_

_Yes I know it's been a while since I updated, and I'm very sorry about that. My grandfather passed away, and while he and I weren't exactly that close (in fact I'm pretty sure he hated me), he's still family. So hope you all had a great time during the Christmas Holiday season to make up for my lousy one :) _

**Follow me on Tumblr!** Hey guys, just letting you all know that I now have a tumblr! So feel free to follow me – I shall be putting up hints for the future, excerpts from other fics I'm working on, and answering any questions you may have!

The website is:

http : / / chariots99 . tumblr . com

Please take away the spaces!

As an incentive to check it out, there is an excerpt from '**Collision Course**', the next AR fic I've been working on ;)

Thanks guys!

**Disclaimer** – I do not, have not, and will not ever own Alex Rider

**Summary** – Unbeknownst to them, all their past adventures had been leading to this point. Because it wasn't fate that brought them together. It was something else. A secret so big, that people would do anything to make sure it stayed just that. Secret. And so came the big question; how far would you go in the name of love? SEQUEL to 'Not Every Story Ends Happily Ever After'

.

**Chapter Thirteen – The Unexpected Allies **

It was quite early in the morning, but everyone in Tom's house was up. Rose and Ben were shifting through piles of information either in the laptop or in one of the numerous files they had with them. Dessi sat with them, engaged in a serious discussion over exactly how they were going to break into a secure military compound with a force of three people (Rose was, once again, rather put out at being discounted due to her injury). So far, it was looking neigh on impossible, especially since they knew so little about how the SAS had changed over the years.

Alex Rider on the other hand, was quietly observing the scene with Tom. He could be helping; in fact, he probably should be. But he hadn't seen his best friend in fourteen years. They had some serious catching up to do. Speaking of which ...

'Hey Tom,' Alex said, turning to his friend who looked like he was about to doze off.

'Hm?'

Alex looked at him contemplatively, before breaking out into a grin. 'Follow me.'

He led the way out of the house, pausing only to grab Ben's backup service weapon that he'd all but given to Alex anyway. They walked in silence to a very secluded park that, to Alex's very ancient knowledge, only about five people had ever frequented.

'Glad to see it hasn't changed,' Alex commented as he looked around the obviously deserted expanse of land.

'No one's come here in years,' said Tom, 'not after you ... well ... yeah.'

Alex just smiled. 'I know.'

They looked at each other in silence for a while, before Tom cleared his throat. 'Um, so why did you drag me out of the house? And why do you have a gun?'

'Oh, I was just planning on killing you without any witnesses around,' said Alex, casually twirling the gun around in his hand.

Tom just glared. 'That's not even funny, Al.'

'Yeah, I know,' said Alex, slightly sheepishly. 'I'm sorry, couldn't resist.' He handed over the gun to Tom, who took it with quite a lot of undisguised hesitancy.

'What do I do with it?'

Alex rolled his eyes. 'It's a gun, stupid. You shoot stuff with it.'

'I know that,' said Tom. 'I meant, why are you giving it to me?'

'Because,' he replied grimly, all traces of previous humour gone, 'you're in far too deep this time. You know too much. If we leave you alone, I don't want to take the risk that you'll be unprotected. It'll make me feel better about all this if I know you'll have some means of fighting back.'

'Okay,' said Tom slowly, drawing the word out, 'but isn't shooting a gun just pointing and pulling the trigger?'

Alex quirked an eyebrow. 'Okay. Why don't you try that then? Look, see that bench? We'll use that as our target.'

'What – now?' said Tom, taken aback. At Alex's nod, he shrugged, lifted the gun, aimed at the bench and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He couldn't even pull the trigger back.

'Wha –' Tom turned to his friend, only to see Alex doubled over in laughter.

'You – you didn't take the safety off,' he managed to choke out.

'Oh, ha ha very funny,' muttered Tom darkly, turning the gun around in his hands. He paused, staring at it, before sighing. 'How do I do that?'

Alex snorted. 'So you admit that there's more to shooting a gun than pointing and pulling the trigger?'

'Yes fine,' said Tom. 'I admit that I was wrong, you were right, I should always bow down to your great judgement. Happy?'

'You know it.'

They spent the next hour going through the basics of how to shoot a gun. To be honest, Alex had never taught someone the pure basics, especially not to someone who was so ... well, untalented. It may sound rude, but Tom agreed. Still, by the end of the hour, he had mastered the "point-and-shoot" aspect, and Alex was pretty sure that if anyone ever came after Tom, he'd be able to at least hold them off long enough to run away, or for someone to come to help. The lesson would've gone on for longer, had the gun not accidentally flown out of Tom's hand and landed in the bin.

'Well done, Tom,' laughed Alex, jogging over to grab the gun. Thankfully the bin was empty. Or at least, almost; there was a folded newspaper right at the bottom, and it was the picture on the front page that caught Alex's attention.

'Hey Tom,' shouted Alex, beckoning his friend over as he took the newspaper out of the bin. 'Come look at this.'

'Yeah?'

They both stared at the newspaper, Tom's gaze shocked while Alex stared on grimly.

'Come on,' Alex said finally. 'We should go. Ben needs to see this.'

.

The other three were still talking over the best way to go to war against an entire compound filled with SAS soldiers when Alex and Tom hurried in. Alex didn't even bother with any greetings, instead just marching right up to them and dropping the newspaper onto the table. The three simultaneously looked up at Alex, then dropped their gazes to the newspaper.

_**The Search Continues for Rogue MI6 Agent**_

_Convicted of treason, ex-MI6 agent Benjamin Daniels was blacklisted by the MI6 earlier this week after Intelligence revealed the disgraced agent to be in cahoots with escaped fugitive and murderer Desiree Swan. While the MI6 and other law enforcers of the country are doing everything they can to ensure public safety, the spokesperson for the MI6 had this to say:_

"_If anyone from the public sees either Daniels or Swan, they are advised to stay away. These two are extremely mentally unstable, and their actions cannot be predicted. Furthermore, if anyone from the public believes themselves to have seen either Daniels or Swan, please contact the Information Hotline. Any and all information are helpful in arresting these felons and keeping you safe. Thank you." ..._

And at the very top of the article was the large picture of Ben that had caught Alex's eye in the first place. There was stunned silence in the room, before Desiree broke it.

'Oh sweet lord,' she moaned, dropping her head into her hands. 'As if things weren't complicated enough.'

'Eighteen years,' Ben whispered. He looked exceedingly pale, and rather shaky too. 'Eighteen years of my life given to the MI6, and this is how they repay me?'

There was a tense, uncomfortable silence that Tom just had to break.

'You can't exactly blame them, since you are technically helping out a fugitive –'

'Shut up!' Alex hissed. It was times like these that Alex really wished his friend came with a brain-mouth filter.

'Do you ... do you want to go lie down for a bit?' Rose asked hesitantly. But Ben shook his head.

'No. No, I'll be fine. I just ... it's a little bit of a shock, you know?'

'Hate to be the bearer of even more bad news,' said Alex with a wince, 'but if they've already reported this, then everyone we've visited may report you. Including Tom's mum who would, unfortunately, be able to give them our current address.'

'Thank you, Alex,' Dessi said dryly. 'Is there anything else you'd like to add? Did you perhaps also ring up Director Blunt and let them know we're here?'

Alex rolled his eyes, but didn't deign to comment.

'Don't worry,' said Tom. 'My mum never watches the news, or reads the newspaper. Says it's a waste of time.'

'Look, for now, we're just going to have to hope for the best,' said Rose.

'And prepare for the worst,' Alex finished grimly, taking control. 'Dessi, can you put up surveillance around the house? And also within a twenty metre radius?'

'Consider it done,' she said, already halfway out the door.

'Rose –'

'I'll set up Tom's crappy laptop to play those feeds,' Rose said, dragging the very old thing towards her. 'Hopefully this thing will work.'

Alex sighed, turning to Ben. 'Are you going to be okay?'

'Like I said,' Ben grimaced, 'it's a bit of a shock, but I'll be fine.'

'Good,' said Alex. 'What with Rose out of commission and Dessi ... well, a little bit unstable, I'm going to need your help.'

'What am I, cold meat?' said Tom, but all he got was an exasperated glance. He huffed. 'Fine, I get it. Ignore the guy with no spy training.'

They laughed. At that moment, Rose's computer beeped, drawing her attention away. The next second, all the blood drained from her face; she looked quite close to fainting.

'Rose?' said Ben, panicked as Alex quickly hurried over with a glass of water, just in case. 'Rose, what –?'

Alex grabbed the computer and swung it towards himself. There was a paused screen showing a recorded internal communication between Mrs Jones and Mr Blunt. At Ben's nod, he clicked play and turned the volume up 'til Mrs Jones's voice filled the room.

'... _needs more improvement, and we just don't have the time.'_

'_Send in someone else then.'_

'_They're not ready. James and Cameron ... those two may as well be moving backwards as far as progress is concerned.'_

'_And the new kid?'_

'_Patrick? He's good, definitely good.'_

'_He's our Plan B then.'_

'_I'll increase his training; he'll be ready in a week.'_

'_See to it.'_

Something in the cutting off of the recording steered Rose into action; the woman suddenly lunged out of her seat, grappling for Ben's mobile which lay on the table. Quickly, as everyone else watched on in varying states of panic, she dialled a number before impatiently waiting for it to ring. 'Mum, it's me – no, I'm fine! Yes, I'm sorry I haven't called but – no, mum, listen to me! I need to talk to Pat! Right now!'

And then, if at all possible, the woman paled even more. 'Wh-what do you mean? _You just let him go?_ I-No, I'm sorry mum, I can't talk to you right now – no, it's not your fault. I just have to find him – yes, I'll call you later.' And with that, she hung up the phone, staring at the computer with a dazed look on her face.

'Erm ... Rose? What's wrong?' Alex asked hesitantly.

There were unshed tears in Rose's eyes as she turned to look at him. 'It's Pat ... Patrick,' she whispered. 'My nephew. He ... he's gone.'

'Gone?' said Ben. 'What do you mean?'

'I left him at my parents place before I left for my mission,' she said, voice becoming more and more choked. 'Apparently, MI6 paid them a visit. Said that I'd said to hand Pat over so he could have more security or something, I don't know.'

'Wait, back up,' said Alex, holding up his hands. 'Okay, so I know I'm, like, fourteen years out of my time ... but I could've sworn you're an only child. How on earth did you end up with a nephew?'

'Is now really the time?' Ben said.

At the exact same time, Rose looked up with a confused frown. 'I've never told you?'

'Told me what?'

'Yeah, told him what?' added Tom, who looked like he was sick of being left out.

Rose sniffed, trying to discretely wipe her eyes. 'I ... uh ... my parents, the ones who are art teachers, they can't have children. You know, infertile and all that. So they found a couple willing to surrogate for them. I don't think MI6 ever knew about this. Anyway, after I was born, they remained close friends, so much so that I came to think of them as a second set of parents. Both my mum and dad ... erm, _other_ mum and dad, were spies. I think I was about seven when my mum was killed – other mum, that is. And dad – _other_ dad – he began to ... lose his mind. Now I'm lucky if he still remembers my name.'

'I – I'm sorry,' said Alex.

'I know. Point is, they had a son who was a couple of years older than me. I don't think you've ever met; he and his wife were killed a year or two before you were "recruited" by the MI6. Their son – Pat – I think of him as my nephew. When my dad ... other dad grew incapable of looking after him, I took him in,' Rose said, desperation flashing across her face. 'I promised I'd look after him, keep him safe ... and now he's at the Bank and I don't even want to know what they're putting him through – I have to get him out!' Rose even made to stand up, before her leg gave out and she slumped back into the couch.

'We'll get him,' said Alex. There was a fiery determination in his eyes; he would not let another child go through what he had. 'Don't worry Rose, we'll get him.'

'Before or after we go for Greg?' Ben said, already pulling the computer towards him.

At that moment, the front door swung open and Desiree skipped in.

'Done,' she announced. 'We should have enough visuals now. I put traps in too, for good measure. They won't be able to get within sniper distance of this house without setting something off ...' it was then that she looked around the room, and took in the overly depressed faces. 'Who died?'

.

Desiree landed on her feet with a triumphant smile, looking up at the tree in the front yard of the neighbour's house where she had just hidden the last of the tiny cameras. She was done. There were several cameras around Tom's house, as far out as the park which Alex and Tom had visited just that morning. Along with the cameras, Dessi had improvised several subtle traps that, when triggered, created a hell of a noise. It meant that if someone tried to sneak up to the house and somehow managed to avoid all the cameras, they could still be alerted to the unwanted presence.

She made her way back into the house, swinging the door open and all but skipping in.

'Done. We should have enough visuals now. I put traps in too, for good measure. They won't be able to get within sniper distance of this house without setting something off ... who died?' she frowned, seeing all the miserable faces that had turned to her.

Alex stood with a sigh. 'There's been a change of plans.'

'Okaaaay ...' Dessi trailed off. '"Change of plans" how?'

'We're going to the Bank,' said Alex. 'We're going to break out Rose's nephew, Pat. He's been taken by the MI6, like Gregory.'

'Sure,' said Dessi amiably. 'I'm sure once we get Gregory out, he'll know where they're keeping –'

'No.' Alex's tone was as gentle. 'We have to go after Pat first.'

Dessi froze. 'I'm sorry, what?'

'We're going after Pat first,' Alex repeated. 'We have to. If we get Gregory first, MI6 will hear about it and they'll tighten up security so much it would take a nuclear war to break through the Bank. But Brecon Beacons is a huge place; even if they were to tighten up security, there'll still be lapses, places they just can't cover.'

'Alex,' Dessi said softly. 'I don't think you understand. This is your _son_ we're talking about; not some strange boy! How can you want to put off finding him?'

'Because I know he'll be safe,' said Alex. 'I went through the SAS; I survived.'

'He's just a child!' Dessi shouted.

'I was the same age.'

'Alex,' said Dessi incredulously. '_This is your son!_'

But Alex just replied in that infuriatingly calm voice of his. 'I know. And in any other circumstance, I wouldn't think twice. But Dessi, I won't put another child through what I had to experience – through what you had to. Not if I can help it.'

'I just ... I don't ...' Dessi said despairingly.

'Don't you remember when you were fourteen? Sixteen, even?' said Alex. And damn him, and that tone he was using; they both knew he'd won. 'Remember the bullet runs? If someone had known about it, known about you ... wouldn't you have wanted them to come rescue you?'

'I ...'

'Dessi, Gregory will be fine. He has our genes, after all,' Alex grinned rather cheekily as he stepped forwards.

'Yeah, I –' But Dessi broke off as a hail of voices whistled in her ears. Her voice, Alex's voice ... voices she knew, and voices she _should_ know ... but just couldn't place.

'– _I never knew my biological parents –'_

'– _Scorpia killed mine ... well, technically, my Godfather did –'_

'– _the AIS became my legal guardians –'_

'– _father: John Rider ... current status: deceased –'_

'– _my mother had given birth to me on the freeway ... left me there and drove off –'_

'– _AIS recruited me when I was fifteen ... my parents weren't happy, I can tell you that much ... they're rather religious, very against killing people for no reason, though sometimes I feel like they understand more than they're letting on –_'

Dessi tripped; or at least, that's what it felt like. It could simply be a matter of her legs giving out. Either way, she unexpectedly tumbled forwards, forcefully wrenching herself out of the haze of voices. She was only dimly aware of Alex leaping forwards to catch her before she hit the ground, and of Ben and Tom jumping out of their chairs in shock.

'What the hell?' Alex exclaimed, as Dessi struggled to right herself. 'That's twice now. Dessi, what is going on?'

'I don't – I'm fine,' Dessi said, waving it aside. 'Really. Just ... drop it. Please.'

'Okay,' said Alex reluctantly; that probably meant the man was going to bring it up again when she least expected it. Great.

'So, shall we ... plan? Or something?' said Dessi, trying her best to act like nothing out of the normal had just occurred.

Thankfully, Alex took her lead, and everyone else took Alex's lead. The five of them settled down for the rest of the day, putting aside their plans of the SAS training grounds, and instead opening up new pages and digging through files and memories alike to begin Operation Get-Pat-the-hell-away-from-Hell-Junior (since apparently, they'd all agreed that Hell should only be reserved for Brecon Beacons).

When night fell, they were ready.

They left Tom at the house while Ben drove and Rose typed furiously away in the front seat. The entire operation depended on her ability to shutdown the new security systems MI6 had installed, and judging from the fluently stringed swear words being muttered nonstop under her breath, it appeared to be something she was having trouble with. Desiree rode in the back with Alex, neither saying a word. She wasn't mad at him, not exactly, but at the same time she wasn't happy about the way he'd manipulated her into agreeing.

_Stupid spies_, she thought moodily, staring out the window at the darkness that flashed by outside.

A sudden, surprisingly high-pitched "_beep_" speared through her thoughts; looking up, Dessi caught Rose's triumphant grin through the rear-view mirror.

'Ha,' Rose laughed. 'MI6 have _nothing _on Rose the Great!'

'That's nice,' said Ben absently, swinging the car to a stop right outside the back of the Bank, where no one ever bothered to guard. It was also where Ben and Rose had usually seen the children running around. Now it made perfect sense why no agents were stationed out the back; no one wanted to be on babysitting duty, especially not when those kids had given half those agents premature heart attacks.

'Alright,' said Alex grimly, 'let's do this. Rose, start the loop.'

They all got out of the car – well, with the exception of Rose, who would now be monitoring the security cameras and placing footage to run in a loop so that their presence would not be detected. They had already decided that Desiree and Alex would be the two going in. It wasn't because they were any more skilled than Ben. It was simply because they were both much thinner and, in Dessi's case especially, shorter than Ben, and thus more able to manoeuvre themselves through nooks and crannies. Ben would remain on the ground, acting both as an anchor for the two going in and as a guard for the out-of-commission Rose.

'You two ready?' he asked.

'Not in the slightest,' replied Dessi cheerfully.

'Let's go,' Alex said.

The two nodded at each other, putting aside everything that had happened before. Reaching out, Desiree grabbed Alex's hand and squeezed it tightly, smiling as he returned the gesture. The two silently approached the base of the Bank.

'This is it,' said Alex softly.

Dessi let out a shuddering breath. 'I haven't felt this nervous since my first mission.'

'It's been a while, hasn't it?' he agreed.

They exchanged one last glance before simultaneously stepping forward.

The best thing about MI6 was that when they committed to something, they _committed_. The building of the bank to hide MI6 headquarters had meant that the bank needed to look like a bank. This had entailed months of endless research and time spent scoping out blueprints and final designs. This also meant that the fundamental integrity of the bank had certain flaws that they could exploit. Such as the conveniently placed piping that drained the upper floors of the bank. The very same piping Dessi and Alex were preparing to climb up.

It was a thankless task.

The piping was old, and the nails that held it in place were coming loose. Alex had let Dessi up first; she wasn't sure why, though she thought there might've been a "so I can catch you if you fall" reasoning. The downside to going up that thing first was that she hit each and every snag first. Including that nail that just sliced her finger open.

'Son of a –!' she hissed, immediately jerking her hand.

'Dessi?' Alex called from beneath, worried.

'It's good. Watch out when you get here; there's a nail here that's kind of sharp,' warned Dessi as she ripped a strip of cloth from her shirt with her teeth and wrapped it around her finger to make sure she didn't bleed everywhere, before carefully wiping the residual blood from the nail. Just in case.

According to Ben and Rose, the MI6 had all but banned their agents from accessing the third floor. The reason they gave was "due to ongoing technological and bio-hazardous issues", but which they now took to mean "this is where we're training lots of children as agents, and we don't want any of you butting in".

Though they desired otherwise, because of the fact that they literally had no supplies, neither Desiree and Alex were heavily armed; indeed, Alex only had Ben's spare weapon in his possession, while Dessi's weapon was one of Tom's kitchen knives. Not really ideal, when they were about to storm a building with highly trained agents armed to the teeth, but it was better than nothing. However, one thing they did have on their side were ear pieces and throat mics that Ben had found underneath the seat of his car; they were old, worn and slightly bloodied, but at least they still worked.

'_How are you two doing?_' came Ben's voice over the ear pieces.

'We're getting there,' Alex replied for them. 'We're at the window now.'

'And it's not opening,' Dessi growled as she latched her fingers under the god-forsaken thing and heaved up with all her strength.

'Do you want me to –'

But the window suddenly gave way with a tiny creak, and Dessi shoved it all the way up. 'We're in,' she said in a self-satisfied tone, swinging into the thankfully empty room before turning back to give Alex a hand.

'_Good luck_.'

Dessi and Alex exchanged grim nods, before they both hurried over to the door. Their plan had been simple; once in, they would separate and comb the floor – one person did not attract nearly as much attention as two. The moment pat was found, they would retreat. No side missions, no waiting around. This would be a simple in-and-out extraction. Alex left the room first, after carefully surveying the deserted corridor outside. Dessi was about to follow when, for some reason, she paused. And looked around the room.

It was a bedroom. Or at least, she thought it was. There was a bed, at least. In the corner was a table upon which several books were stacked – books about science and mathematics. A notebook lay open, upon which hundreds of calculations had been performed, written in an almost childish hand. The walls were barren, the bed perfectly made. The closet was open, and empty bar a pair of sneakers used beyond repair.

As the details solidified themselves in her mind, Dessi felt her heart sink. Sure, the books and the unpractised handwriting could've belonged to anyone, even if those books were made to target a high school aged person. But the sneakers, worn beyond use ...

It was a child's bedroom.

Only a child would keep something as broken as a pair of sneakers. Only a child would have such a sentimental attachment to something that they would not bring themselves to throw it out.

Dessi swallowed heavily, her mind turning faster and faster. The empty closet, the unused bed ... the books left behind. Slowly, she approached the bed. Slowly still, she extended a hand towards the pillow. Bare moments before she came into contact, she paused, her will breaking. Who was she to invade some child's privacy? But she ... she had to know ...

With gritted teeth, she thrust her hand beneath the pillow. The edge of a thick piece of paper brushed against her fingers; quickly, she snatched at the paper before drawing it out from beneath its hiding place.

It was a photo.

And just like the one she had hidden beneath her own pillow so many years ago, this one showed the child who lived in this room a glimpse of the outside, a reminder that they were happy, once. The blonde haired child was sat in the middle, in the picture. Around him arrayed twenty or thirty children, ranging in age from sixteen or seventeen, to two or three – there was even a baby in the background, held by one of the older girls. In the picture, they were all laughing, all covered in bits of flour; a cooking experiment gone wrong. Dessi had to smile at their innocent expressions; this is what she was fighting for.

Abruptly, the smile was wiped off her face. For it was only then that she realised who that blonde haired child actually was.

She almost dropped the photo in shock.

'Gregory ...' she whispered, so many emotions whirling through her that she felt like she was about to faint.

The door suddenly slammed shut, causing Dessi to jump. Her hand instantly went to the kitchen knife, her only weapon, as she spun to face the intruders ...

... only to find herself facing the very wrong end of two unwavering guns.

.

Rose sat very uncomfortably in the car, laptop open in front of her, feeling completely and utterly useless. She was monitoring Alex and Desiree's process on the real feed, while also monitoring the looped feed those in the surveillance room should be seeing. It was boring, and pointless, and how she wished she could be doing_ something_, rather than just sitting there and waiting for everyone else to do the work.

'Urgh,' Rose groaned. 'There must be something I can do!'

She cast her extremely bored mind around. When her laptop flashed, showing Desiree finally getting into the room, a little file at the bottom bar caught her eye. It was one she'd been working on since Alex and Ben's not-very-pleasant encounter with Michaelis Menten (or at least, his own private army) at the hotel. And, it seemed to be something she could continue working on to occupy her time.

Rose began typing away, using her proximity to MI6 to easily hack into their system once more. She'd already scoured the MI6 database; it was startlingly empty when it came to details about the criminal mastermind. But through MI6, she was able to link herself to the NCIS central command. Menten had been on their Most Wanted list for a while now, and the investigative service had managed to collect quite some information about the man in question.

'Excellent,' Rose whispered, grinning a surprisingly blood-thirsty grin as she began to read.

The smile dropped off her face. The more she read, the further away that smile went. By the end of NCIS's extensive background of Michaelis Menten, Rose was as far from smiling as was humanely possible.

A few quick commands later, and she had burrowed herself deep within NCIS, where she quickly hitch-hiked through their system directly into that of the FBI. From a time so long ago it seemed like it never even existed, she remembered the brief mention of FBI having jurisdiction over the Menten case at its very beginning (since it had now expanded to encompass several agencies across the world). And it was from the FBI that she discovered the final few droplets of information about Menten's past.

At last, she let out a deep breath, and slumped back into her car seat. She glanced out the window to Ben's lone figure, before looking even further up to where Desiree and Alex had disappeared. Finally, her gaze returned to the laptop and everything she had just read.

'We are so screwed,' she breathed.

.

The hallway was deserted, something which they had all anticipated. No agent would lower themselves to what they felt were "babysitting-duties"; even if MI6 had revealed to them the truth of the third floor. They could only rely on the security feed and their own unhackable firewall for surveillance. Of course, none of them would've expected their best hacker – the one they themselves had trained – to turn against them and rip their defences apart from the inside.

Alex suppressed a humourless laugh as he crept along the hallway.

The door next to the room they'd snuck in from was open; a quick glance inside revealed it to be empty. A more thorough examination however, showed the blankets on the bed to have been carelessly tossed aside. On the wall was tacked a planner, upon which was written "_Patrick Morrison"_ in Mrs Jones' rather distinct handwriting.

'So at least this is the right room,' Alex muttered to himself, checking under the bed just to make sure he hadn't missed the boy. 'So where's the kid?'

_Alright. If I was still fifteen, where would I go in the middle of the night, when I'm living in rather secure Intelligence headquarters with constant surveillance and no chance of escaping? _Alex frowned. The answer hit him rather suddenly, and he set off at once down the hall.

_The toilets._

It didn't take him long to locate the toilets; the layout of the Bank hadn't changed after all, and back when he'd been an Agent, MI6 hadn't yet started their little spy school, meaning that Alex was perfectly aware of the layout of the third floor.

'Pat?' Alex said softly to the closed door.

There was a startled gasp from the other side, before a hesitant voice asked, 'Cameron? What did you do to your voice?'

'Uh, no,' Alex said, 'I'm not Cameron.'

'James?'

'No. Before you go on,' Alex added hastily, 'how about I introduce myself?'

A slight pause followed, before Pat spoke once more. 'Yeah, that's probably a good idea.'

In his mind, Alex imagined a male version of Rose blushing embarrassedly. The thought made him smile. 'Pat, my name is Alex. I'm good friends with your aunt, Rose Allende –'

Pat's gasp cut him off. 'Is she alright? Is she alive? Oh, please say she's alive!'

'If you'll listen to me,' said Alex gently, 'I was about to say that she is just outside waiting for you. She's alive, yes, but she is injured, which is why I'm here to get you for her.'

'Why should I believe you though?' the tone of Pat's voice made it clear he was worried about offending Alex.

'Rose said you might question that,' Alex laughed. 'And she said the answer to your question is: "while it is true strangers cannot be trusted, those with a good heart and an even better history with the luck of the devil on their side will always triumph against the judgement of the greater good".' He paused, hoping he had repeated the words in the right order. He had no idea what that statement actually meant; Rose had said that she'd basically strung a bunch of phrases together to minimise the chances of guessing the "safe" password.

'Okay,' said Pat. The door creaked open, and a boy who appeared to be slightly short for his age stepped out. He had Rose's cheekbones, and held himself in a very similar fashion, but that was where the similarities ended. Nonetheless, it was enough to convince Alex that he wouldn't be smuggling out the wrong child.

'Come on,' said Alex, gesturing for the boy to go first. He did, though not before shooting Alex a series of extremely strange looks, as if he were trying to place the man. Then, as if realising he might be behaving rather rudely, Pat gave him a brief smile, that confused Alex even more.

'Fox?' Alex said into his mic, causing Pat to look up briefly.

'_Here. Got it?'_

'Yes.'

'_Excellent.'_

They cut off their communication. Rose hadn't been sure whether she could stop MI6 from hacking into their signal, so they'd been under the firmest instruction to keep everything as brief and vague as was humanely possible.

'Hey, can I get some stuff before we go?'

Alex looked down in surprise, before nodding. 'Of course you can.'

'Thanks,' Pat smiled. They walked in silence for a while before he seemed to pluck up the courage to ask, 'How badly hurt is she? Aunt Rose, I mean.'

'Well,' Alex hesitated. 'She's alive, and has full use of her mind and all but ... her leg doesn't really look that good. You'll see what I mean,' he added, to forestall any more time-delaying questions the boy might have. And judging from the sigh, it seemed Pat had quite a few.

It turns out that Pat only wanted two things; a small cloth container with lock-picking tools, and a rather old copy of "_Frankenstein"_ that Alex recognised as being Rose's.

'Oh,' Pat said, looking up at Alex, 'do you mind if we just go by Greg's room? I promised I'd look after something of his. It's just next door.'

But Alex had frozen upon hearing Greg's name. 'Greg? As in ... as in "Gregory Rider"?'

'Yep,' Pat nodded, 'although he hates being called Gregory.' Then the boy frowned. 'Are you alright, sir? You look kind of pale ... actually, you look a lot like Greg when he came and told me he was being moved ... is something wrong?'

'No ... well, yes ... we'll deal with it later,' Alex shook himself. They didn't have time for this! 'Let's just go. We came in through Gregory's ... Greg's room, so we have to go out that way anyway. You can get whatever it is you promised to look after, alright?'

'Cool,' said Pat amiably as he led the way out. 'Hang on ... "we"? Who else came with you?'

Alex didn't get a chance to answer Pat's question, for by that point they had walked into Greg's room. And right there, sitting uncomfortably on the bed with two seventeen year old boys, both of whom were armed, was one very cornered looking Desiree Swan.

'What –' Alex frowned, confused.

'James? Cameron?' piped up Pat at the same time. 'What are you guys doing here?'

The two boys looked up with grins. 'Why hello Pat. Fancy seeing you here!'

'What are you two doing?' Pat asked again.

'Just having a chat with our good friend here,' the one who'd looked up at "James" said. 'We've struck up a lovely deal, haven't we?'

Alex frowned. 'Dessi? What's going on?'

'These boys know a lot more than they're given credit for,' Dessi sighed, looking up helplessly. 'We ... we have to take them with us.'

There was a moment of silence so thick, it felt like they would drown in it.

'I'm sorry, what?' Alex blinked. 'Dessi, we can't take all the kids with us, much as I'd like to!'

'I know,' Dessi said. 'But like I said, these two know a little too much –'

'Like Breacon Beacons' entire layout,' said James.

'And the surveillance locations of all SAS soldiers,' piped up Cameron.

'We've been gathering intelligence for years, ever since we figured out exactly what MI6 was training us to do,' James nodded at himself and Cameron. 'We keep dumbing ourselves down so that Mrs Jones doesn't send us away; it's really the only way to prevent us from entering the field too early.'

'So instead you let my son go,' said Alex in a very dark tone, while his conscience screamed at him that it was very wrong to murder children.

'Well, yes,' said Cameron, looking very guilty, before hastily adding, 'But we can repay you!'

'How?'

James and Cameron exchanged identically mischievous glances.

'Well,' James smirked, 'if you take us with you, we can get you into Breacon Beacons. Unseen.'

.

_Didn't see that coming, now did you?_

_**Please **__**REVEIW!**__ And now I have a tumblr, feel free to go on there and bug me about updating ;)_

_Love Chariots99_


	14. Breaching Hell

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**Disclaimer** – I do not, have not, and will not ever own Alex Rider

**Summary** – Unbeknownst to them, all their past adventures had been leading to this point. Because it wasn't fate that brought them together. It was something else. A secret so big, that people would do anything to make sure it stayed just that. Secret. And so came the big question; how far would you go in the name of love? SEQUEL to 'Not Every Story Ends Happily Ever After'

_WOOT! 100 REVIEWS! You reviewers are TOTALLY AWESOME! Love you all so much!_

_This is it! The chapter most of you have been waiting for! Hope it lives up to some exceptionally high expectations ..._

**.**

**Chapter 14 – Breaching Hell**

.

In the very early hours of the morning, an event occurred that was so significant, it was literally broadcasted across the world. However, it wasn't something everyone was aware of. In fact, were you to ask any random person on the street, they would not even begin to understand. But choose the right person, and they would know all about it.

They might also try kill you because of that knowledge, but that's another story.

At the very inconspicuous bank which would be closed to the public for the unforeseeable future, the panic was almost tangible. Agents hurried back and forth, up and down, side to side, carrying files and laptops and all with their weapons at the ready. Level by level, from the ground floor up, windows were being fortified with thick reinforced glass that resembled steel more than anything else. Doors were being barricaded, each and every possible entry point into the bank being sealed off bar the main entrance, where it took agents thirteen full minutes of identification and background checking to be allowed to enter. Random stop-and-searches were also being conducted by top-clearance agents walking around armed to the teeth.

The scene at the bank was being closely observed around the world. In Israel, hidden cameras implanted by their double agents were carefully following Mr Blunt, and Mrs Jones, and several other high level agents. In America, several Intelligence agencies were connected to each other via satellite, and were talking about the events unfolding before their eyes. For the first time in years, none of them were about to start a war with the other. And in Australia, an officially non-existent agency had actually tapped into the bank's feed itself, and were silently observing the confusion and chaos. The reason for the international uproar?

MI6 had gone into lockdown.

It had been years, decades even, since an entire agency had called the Code Black. The reason was ... well, one, it was almost impossible to securely lock down the entire headquarters of one of the big intelligence agencies. Cracks the size of canyons could be found everywhere, if only someone were trained enough to look. And this being the world of espionage, there was always someone on hand who could, and would, force such a lockdown to become completely pointless. Secondly, the moment a code was called, the agency in question would risk intervention by international agencies. Which would mean foreign spies, with the nation's closest secrets at their fingertips.

The second reason though, and the main reason the lockdown had caught so many eyes, was that a Code Black was usually only called when it became a life or death situation. It had happened once before, when three quarters of the agents of the United Intelligence Service had turned rogue, gunning down their fellow colleges before brutally and very publically executing their Director. The United Intelligence Service doesn't exist anymore. Doesn't take a genius to figure out why.

As such, the entire espionage world was waiting with baited breath to see if MI6 faced the same fate as the United Intelligence Service. Though MI6 was arguably one of the more dominant agencies in the world, recent blundering and incompetent mistakes had caused a fall in the power wielded by the agency. And after this Code Black, only luck and lots of it would save MI6 from collapse.

In the bank itself, agents previously running around like headless chooks were now hurrying to make themselves as sparse as could be. Word had spread that the Director and the Deputy Director of the MI6 were on the move, and anyone still within hearing distance were at high risk of losing their jobs (if they were lucky). Sure enough, a moment later, Mr Blunt and Mrs Jones rounded the now empty corridor, both wearing matching tight expressions. They're speaking in low, terse voices, and none of the agents are daring enough to sneak closer to eavesdrop. Mrs Jones rolled her eyes at the so-called "fearsome" agents, but decided not to comment. Instead, she continued her train of thought.

'It's honestly impossible for anyone to break into MI6 without inside help,' she said.

'We _have_ a rogue agent on the loose, in case you've forgotten,' Mr Blunt all but growled. His pace was making it rather difficult for Mrs Jones and her heels to keep up with. To compensate, she hastily unpeeled another mint, before popping it into her mouth without a second thought.

'Ben Daniels wouldn't dare attempt something like this,' said Mrs Jones, almost defensively. 'He has no reason. He doesn't know about the children. There's no logical reason –'

'It's the most logical reason we have.'

Mrs Jones cocked her head. 'We have others?'

Mr Blunt sighed, rubbing his face with his hands as they started making their way down the stairs. 'Two. One more improbable than the other, but the rumour mill has been churning nonstop.'

'And?'

'I understand if they found a way to fix memories; a trigger, that's all you need. But to escape an inescapable prison?' Blunt shook his head. 'I'm not sure whether I'm willing to believe the rumours, but they unfortunately make much more sense.'

'What do you propose we do?'

Mr Blunt was quiet for a second, before he shook his head. 'How did they get in?'

'Up the pipes, and in through the window – they left it open after they kidnapped the children,' Mrs Jones said. 'Probably a message to us.'

'I knew we should've taken down those external pipes a long time ago,' snarled Mr Blunt. 'Nothing good could've ever come from those blasted things.'

'What surprises me is that they somehow managed to circumvent our new security system,' said Mrs Jones, looking slightly bemused. 'We upgraded it the moment the AIS informed us of the escape, and for it to be taken down so easily ... not even Daniels has that skill.'

'No,' said Mr Blunt, 'but Allende does.'

Mrs Jones sucked in a quick breath. 'You don't think ...?'

'That's exactly what I think,' growled Mr Blunt. 'We never recovered a body. She's the only one with enough clearance and skill to attempt such a thing, and actually have some chance of succeeding. And she would risk it all for Pat.'

Mrs Jones had to bite her lip to prevent herself from pointing out that Allende had succeeded.

'So what do we do now?'

'First things first,' said Mr Blunt. 'Get in contact with the SAS Sergeant; I want security around Brecon Beacons tightened ten-fold. We're not letting the Rider kid go, not without a fight. I don't care if we have to dispatch half our agents to increase the man-power, just ensure that it's done. Also, mobilise the search parties. I want those kids found.'

Quickly, Mrs Jones jotted the instructions down, before looking back up expectantly. 'And?'

'And ... call in some favours,' said Mr Blunt reluctantly. 'The others owe us for this. And as much as I hate to claim on such a petty thing, we have no choice.'

Mrs Jones nodded. 'I'll contact them right now.'

'Tell them to be ready,' said Mr Blunt, a dark look in his eyes as he gazed out the window. 'Somehow, the war started before we even realised.'

.

They drove towards Brecon Beacons in grim silence.

None of them had slept at all; it was rather uncomfortable in the cramped car, and already adrenaline was rushing through their veins, readying their bodies for the task that lay ahead. With every passing second, the optimal conditions for breaking into SAS training grounds was closing in; even as they sped past the trees, there was no doubt in any of their minds that soldiers and spies alike were being stationed around the boarder, creating an impassable line ready and waiting to snag the invaders in.

Impassable at least, unless you had a few tricks up your sleeves.

Alex glanced into the back seat where James and Cameron were curled carefully on top of a pile of old newspapers and Ben's files. The two boys were talking in hushed tones, their faces pale and drawn; for all their bravado, it was clear to Alex that neither was as trained or ready as they would've liked to have been. A quick pressure on his hand drew Alex's attention; Desiree was giving him a tight smile, her hand clutching at his. After he returned the smile, she looked back to the hand-drawn map of Brecon Beacons, courtesy of James and Cameron.

They had come immediately from the Bank, with only a quick call to Tom letting him know they were still alive. The two boys had been quick to let them know of the only path into Brecon Beacons, the one weakness they could exploit.

'The very southern part of the training grounds are cut off by boulders,' James had said with an almost childish air of self-importance. 'It's rocky, impossible terrain that no one ever guards, because they figure no one is stupid enough to try invading from that end.'

'The boulders aren't stable,' Cameron had added. 'One false move, and you basically trigger an avalanche. Then you die.'

'So you're suggesting we take that route ... why?' Dessi had asked with a raised eyebrow.

At which point, James and Cameron had exchanged glances so sly, Pat had groaned and buried his head into his aunt's shoulder. 'We know the safe route.'

Which was why Ben was currently heading towards the southern part of Brecon Beacons, rather than taking the main road to the front entrance of the SAS training grounds. At one point during their journey, the sky was filled with three military grade planes used for transporting soldiers into battle. No one had even needed to voice the thought that the people in those planes weren't soldiers, but agents of the MI6. In some ways, they were even more deadly.

They didn't stop for breakfast, or for lunch. Rose had insisted they bring food with them, and they were so glad she did. With three extra mouths to fill, the food was quickly gone, but at least it meant that they didn't waste any time.

It was well into the afternoon by the time they finally reached Brecon Beacons. Ben parked the car as close to the training grounds as he dared, before they all clambered out. Rose remained pouting in the front seat, while Pat hugged her goodbye. It had taken an epic battle to get the woman to allow her nephew out on the rescue, but she eventually caved, though not before promising serious bodily harm to anyone who put Pat in danger.

They divided themselves up into two teams. Ben, along with James and Cameron, would sneak around the west side of the training grounds and hopefully draw any serious fire away. The three knew Brecon Beacons the best, and thus had the most chance of escaping any potential chase. Alex on the other hand, would lead Dessi and Pat up over the boulders, after which they would make their way towards the cabins, where hopefully they would be able to find Greg amongst the soldiers.

Just the thought of meeting his son was making Alex's palms sweat. He wasn't sure whether he was nervous or excited. Probably a deadly combination of the two. And one quick glance at Dessi told him that he wasn't alone.

'We'll be fine,' whispered Alex, not sure who he was trying to convince.

Dessi just nodded, holding her hand out for Pat to take.

'Good luck,' Ben said, before he, James and Cameron disappeared into the forest.

'You too,' Alex said into the empty air.

They have to wait five minutes though, in order to give Ben and the others time to get into position. It was the longest five minutes of Alex's life; he was quite sure that he didn't breath once throughout that entire period. But then, time was up, and he was signalling for them to move.

And once again, they were inadequately armed. In fact, Pat didn't have a weapon on him at all. Probably one of the reasons Rose had fought so hard against him being dragged into this mess. Oh well, they were too far gone now.

They negotiated the boulders with surprising ease, with Pat displaying an almost instinctive ability to spot the unstable areas and lead them to safety, when James' and Cameron's instructions hadn't been enough. And Alex allowed his hopes to rise, thinking that maybe, just maybe, they could get in and out of Brecon Beacons without any trouble.

Of course, he should've known the moment that thought crossed his mind that he would jinx them.

It was the distinctive _bang, bang, bang_ that alerted their already on-edge senses.

'Get down!' Dessi shouted, shoving Pat behind a nearby cabin while Alex dived after them. The trail of bullets missed him by millimetres.

'Well, guess the game's up,' said Alex grimly, peeking out from behind the wall only to have to draw back quickly to avoid being blasted in the face. 'Yeah, they've definitely spotted us.'

From behind him, Dessi snorted.

'What do we do?' asked Pat, covering his ears. Suddenly, Alex was struck by just how young the boy was.

'Don't worry,' Alex said, taking the only gun between them off safety. 'I got this.' When there was a slight lull in the number of bullets being fired his way, Alex jumped out and began shooting. One, two, three shots he got off, before having to duck back into safety. 'Alright.'

'So?' asked Dessi worriedly.

'There's three of them. I'm guessing they're all from the same unit, but I don't know where the fourth one is. All the same, it's kinda bad for us since, well, they actually can work together as a team,' said Alex grimly. 'That and, I don't want to actually kill them.'

'What did you just shoot then?' Pat said.

'Shoulder, arm, missed,' said Alex. At Dessi's incredulous look, he added: 'He moved right as I fired.'

'Fair enough.' Dessi didn't have time to say any more, as another hail of bullets kicked up the sand around them, and took chunks off the cabin wall they were hiding behind. Alex pushed them further back, chewing his lip, while Dessi had wrapped her arms comfortingly around Pat.

'Okay, here's what we're going to do,' said Alex. 'On three, I'm going to provide some cover fire. You two then run over to the next cabin. Then I'll throw you the gun, and you provide cover fire while I run. And we'll keep doing that until we can lose them.'

'That is the worst plan I've ever heard,' Dessi pronounced. 'But it's the best we've got.'

The three soldiers firing at them never saw it coming. One moment, they had their prey cornered, and were about to close in; the next, the Alex had leapt clear of the cabin wall, rolling off the ground and using the momentum to fire five shots without being hit himself. The next moment, the soldiers were under fire, forced to duck and run as way-too-accurate bullets came flying past them. In fact, it almost felt like the shooter was missing on purpose...

'NOW!' Alex roared.

'Run Pat, go!' Dessi shouted, giving the frozen boy a strong shove.

Pat stumbled forward, managing to right himself, before flying towards the next cabin. Dessi was poised to follow, in fact was halfway there herself, when a sudden and most definitely unexpected spray of bullets cut of her escape. With a startled shriek, she skidded to a halt, sand flying out beneath her feet, before quickly scrambling back to the original hideout, ducking the millions of bullets that were taking a sudden liking to her head.

Alex joined her as she slumped against the wall.

'What on earth –?' she hissed, as he carefully peeked out from behind the cabin. What he saw made his heart drop.

It seemed they were right in assuming the three planes that had passed over them on their journey were full of MI6 agents. Because the newest shooters were definitely MI6, according to the badges pinned to their bullet-proof vests.

'We have company,' Alex grunted as he reloaded the gun.

'I thought Ben was supposed to be taking care of them!'

'He's obviously doing a brilliant job,' Alex snapped, before leaving the safety of their barricade and taking another few shots. SAS soldiers he wouldn't badly hurt, but he had no issue with seriously injuring MI6 agents.

Meanwhile, Dessi had turned to check on Pat, who was staring at them, horrified.

'_What do I do?_' he mouthed.

'Just go!' Dessi yelled. 'Find Greg! Please!'

Pat nodded, before taking off towards the cluster of cabins. As Dessi slid back to safety, she couldn't help but notice one of the soldiers break off from his attack to run deeper into the training grounds.

'Think he'll reach him on time?' Alex asked.

'He has to,' said Dessi grimly. 'He's our last chance.'

'_I'll alert Fox,_' came Rose's voice over their earpieces. '_You two ... stay safe. Watch each others' backs. Do what you have to.'_

'Hope to see you on the other side,' said Alex.

He and Dessi exchanged one final look of mutual understanding, before Alex reloaded his gun and Desiree unsheathed her knife, holding it in sure hands as they both turned to peek out from behind the wall once more.

.

Wolf was on the phone with Eagle. Rather unusually for them, this wasn't a social chat.

'Look Eagle, it's not my fault those planes decided to break down!' Wolf said exasperatedly.

'_Contrary to popular belief, Wolf, I don't have that many planes at my disposal!_' came the Air Force Captain's agitated voice. And yes, not a day went by in which Wolf didn't laugh at the irony of _Eagle_ being appointed head of their entire air force. '_What with the new searches ... look, just, when can you get them fixed up?'_

'I don't know ... maybe a few days. I've already sent out for the parts,' said Wolf. 'And all the technicians are on hold.'

'_Alright, just do the best you can._'

'Will do.'

'_Take care, Wolf. I'll catch you soon, yeah?'_

'Looking forward to it,' Wolf smiled. 'Bye.'

Putting the phone down, Wolf sighed. Talking to Eagle, however annoying the man was to deal with, was at least a break from all the stupid paper work he was forced to fill in, all the training regimes he had to make sure soldiers were keeping up with, all the –

The door to his office suddenly burst open, badly startling Wolf and causing him to leap out of his chair, instinctively landing in a defensive position as he face the perceived intruder. To his surprise, he found one of his own men, badly out of breath, as if he'd just sprinted from the southern border without any breaks.

'Yes?' Wolf asked tersely.

'Sir! Sir, someone's broken into Brecon Beacons!'

Wolf stared. '_What?_'

But the soldier didn't even have time to answer before F Unit leader Lion rushed in, eyes wild. 'Sir! They're going after the kid!'

Wolf's eyes hardened. He pulled open his drawer to reveal his loyal service weapon. Grimly, he armed himself, loading the gun and taking it off safety, before marching out of his office, Lion and the other soldier hurriedly scampering after him.

'Not on my watch.'

.

Alex rolled away from the line of bullets before returning fire, abruptly cutting off the agent who'd decided to aim for his head. His bullets nailed the agent hard in the chest, definitely winding the man and hopefully putting him out of commission for a while.

He didn't stop, rolling back to avoid the return assault, before physically lashing out and catching the man who'd wandered way too close. Alex quickly followed it up with a sharp rap to the temple, and the man was unconscious before he hit the ground.

.

There were three of them, sprinting through the forest, chased by a huge group made up of soldiers and spies alike. Strangely, only two of them were bothering to fire their weapons at all; the rest were concentrating on not tripping over the rough terrain. The three in the lead however, had no such issue; two of them were young, children, nimble and light, with their coordination honed to perfection. The third remembered more and more of the forest the further he ran, hours upon hours of training coming back to him.

However, Ben Daniels knew something was wrong. Wrong with the situation, wrong with the chase.

'Why are we losing them?' James shouted, risking a glance back.

'I don't know!' Cameron yelled back, leaping over a fallen log as their pursuers dwindled in numbers.

'You don't think...' the boy trailed off, and both of them turned to Ben, who kept his gaze fixed firmly ahead.

But when his reply came, it was dark and grim. 'I think we've been caught out.'

At that moment, Rose's voice came over his earpiece. '_Cub and Swan have been found. They've just had five agents join their little reunion.'_

Ben swore sharply under his breath, ignoring the impressed looks both James and Cameron gave him. 'Are they alright? Can they hold them off?' he asked instead, pressing his fingers against the throat mic which had dislodged itself from all his activity.

'_They say they're fine, but just keep as many off them as you can_.'

Agreeing to that, Ben growled, his mind full of curses at MI6, at his former bosses.

'So what do we do?' Cameron asked.

'We keep running,' said Ben, ducking beneath a low hanging branch. 'Because if we can keep just one person off their tail, we might give them a fighting chance. Then we'll double 'round and help the others.' He chanced a glance at the two boys, both of whom were sweating profusely and taking much quicker breaths than before. 'You boys still going alright?'

'Yes sir!' they both chorused, and together the three plunged deeper into the forests surrounding hell.

.

Desiree leapt out of the way, twisting as Alex took down the man who'd been aiming at her, before darting forwards, knife at the ready. Alex had to shout at her not to kill anyone before she corrected her aim, slicing right through an agent's shoulder and coolly watching him drop with a scream of pain.

'_What is your problem?_' Alex shouted, furious, as he dragged her behind him.

'They're trying to kill me, in case you haven't noticed!' Dessi retorted. 'What, should I just stand back and let them?'

Alex fired off three shots before risking a glance back. 'You've changed.'

.

Pat tore through the cabins, heart pounding madly in his ears. Soldiers rushed past him, ignoring him as they headed for the scene of the fight. Or maybe they noticed, but mistook him for the other child already on Brecon Beacons. It didn't really matter; either way, he was free to search for his friend, to get him back before anyone was killed in the standoff.

_There's too many cabins!_ Pat thought frantically as he peeked through yet another empty window. _Even assuming he's still in his cabin, I'll never find him in time!_

But he had to. Because although he may never meet his parents, his friend actually could. Because Alex and Desiree had basically risen from the dead, and were risking it all just to see their son. Because they were all breaking into hell to reunite this family.

And so he ran, despite his muscles screaming and his stomach churning, he ran.

An empty cabin.

Another empty cabin.

What appeared to be a bathroom ... though it was looking rather broken down.

But as Pat rounded yet another corner, he spotted it; the head of blonde hair, the short stature. 'GREG!'

Greg spun on his heels as Pat sprinted towards his friend, laughing at the way his jaw had all but dropped to the ground.

'P-Pat? What are you doing here?' Greg spluttered.

'Rescuing you, of course!' Pat grinned, pulling his friend into a hug.

'I don't need rescuing,' said Greg. 'I mean, sure, it'd be nice to get the hell out of this place ... but I'm not in danger or anything. Am I?'

'Nope,' Pat said cheerfully. 'But there are some people fighting tooth and claw to see you, and I think you're going to want to meet them.'

Greg blinked. 'Really? Who?'

.

There was a sudden wave of deadly accurate fire that forced Alex to shove Desiree back. They both dived behind a conveniently placed rainwater catchment tank, just as the bullets grazed off the metal with deafening "_clangs_".

'What on _earth_ –?' Alex shouted, reloading his gun.

Dessi peeked around the corner, only to have Alex quickly drag her back when the shooter fired once more.

'Did you see who's there?' Alex asked.

'No,' said Dessi, 'except that they've all parted for him. I'm guessing he's in charge.'

'Oh goodie,' muttered Alex. 'Just what we need. Some pro MI6 shooter with a squadron of SAS soldiers at his command.'

'You're just a right ray of sunshine aren't you?' said Dessi, wiping the blood off her knife.

'Speak for yourself,' Alex replied, managing to take several shots before a hailstorm of bullets cut him off. '_Damn it_! At this rate, we're never going to get past them!'

Dessi groaned, banging her head back against the metal. Then she paused, and did it again, all the while with Alex watching her, confused and most definitely worried for her sanity.

'Are you – are you alright?' he asked cautiously.

'We're hiding behind a rainwater tank,' she replied, banging the thing one last time.

'Yes, and you're losing all your brain cells – oh!' Alex's eyes suddenly brightened as he too turned to gaze at the tank they were hiding behind.

'Exactly,' Dessi smirked.

'You are a genius.'

'I do try.'

Alex laughed, bumping his shoulder against hers before reloading his gun. 'Alright, at the count of three then?'

'One,' she whispered.

'Two.' Alex's finger tightened over the trigger.

'THREE!' They both shouted, and simultaneously leapt clear of the tank. At once, the bullets hailed down upon them with a vengeance. Alex ducked and dodged, weaving in and out in front of the rainwater tank, listening with satisfaction each time a bullet lodged itself into the metal husk. Which was quite often. He returned fire, not as many times as he would've liked, but enough so as not to draw attention to himself. As he did, he spotted the newcomer, the man Dessi had said all the others had parted for, and couldn't help but feel a sting of familiarity. But then that man was aiming at him, and he was forced to dive to the ground as a line of bullets passed within millimetres of his ear.

'Son of a –' Alex grunted, before a very ominous creaking sound cut him off. With a grin, he turned to see the rainwater catchment tank about to collapse, thanks to the numerous bullets it had taken in his stead. Leaping back onto his feet, Alex fired four last rounds at it, before quickly skidding out of the way.

The result was nothing short of spectacular.

With a loud groan, the metal bent in two and cracked. And suddenly, with a fiery force that not even the might of the Gods could stop, the water rushed out. Brecon Beacons being where it was, rainwater tanks on the SAS training grounds were almost always full thanks to the almost constant rainfall. Added to that the fact that those tanks were a lot bigger than normal, since they had to feed an entire camp of ravenous soldiers, and you got a near tidal wave of water pouring out.

With Alex out of the way, the water all but ploughed straight into the unprepared wall of SAS soldiers and MI6 spies, sweeping them off their feet as if they weighed nothing more than feathers. In fact, the only one who managed to remain on their feet was the newcomer, and that was only because of a pile of very conveniently placed rocks that had managed to divert the main force of the water.

When the rainwater catchment tank was finally empty, all the soldiers and agents were at least a hundred metres away from where they'd started, and suddenly Alex found himself standing alone in a faceoff with the one man who'd remained on his feet.

Almost at the same time, the two raised their weapons, aiming them at each other with unwavering intent. From the corner of his eye, Alex saw Desiree emerge from where she'd taken cover, knife held ready in her hand, though she was staring at him, awaiting his signal. Grimly, Alex smiled, his finger tightening on the trigger as the man he faced did the same. Dessi's arm whipped back, ready to let the knife fly, aiming to imbed the thing into the unknown man's back, when a surprisingly strong boy's voice cut through the tense silence.

'STOP!'

All three of them jumped and whipped their attention around, though their weapons remained trained on each other. Standing at the edge of the cabins was Pat, who was grinning rather happily despite the obviously strained situation they were in. But it wasn't he who shouted. No, it was the boy who was standing just behind him, the boy who was now walking forwards onto the battlefield alone.

Alex's eyes met the new boy's, and suddenly he felt his breath catch in his throat. Because it was crystal blue eyes that stared back, searching his eyes for the answer to some question he was privy to. Across the field, he could hear Dessi's uneven breathing as if it were right next to his ear.

The boy spoke again, softer this time, hesitant, though they all heard the lingering trace of hope in his voice. 'Is it true? Are you – are you really my p-parents?'

Instinctively, Alex found himself searching for Dessi, who had turned and locked her own eyes on his. A look of agreement passed between them, and they both dropped their weapons onto the ground.

'Greg?' Alex tried, biting his lip. The boy, Greg, whipped his head around to stare at him.

Alex used to think that Dessi's eyes were beautiful. But now, being pinned to the spot by the same eyes, he couldn't help but think that hers paled in comparison. Because ... this was his _son_. This boy, who was standing in front of him, who he'd last seen as an overly happy infant ... was his _son._

A whirlwind of emotions swept through him, each lasting barely a second before being replaced. His mind was a blur, his thoughts about everything and nothing all at the same time. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to rush over to Greg, to sweep him into a tight hug like he used to give him so long ago, and to promise him that nothing would ever happen to him again. But he couldn't, because Alex was barely an adult himself. He'd spent fourteen years of his life locked up away from humanity ... how was he supposed to be a father?

Strangely enough, it wasn't him who ended up breaking the horribly stifling silence. It wasn't Pat, or Greg. It wasn't even Dessi. No, it was the man Alex had been moments away from shooting, the man he suddenly managed to place as Wolf, Sergeant of the SAS and his old friend.

Because at that moment, he chose to break the silence in the most astounding way possible.

Wolf fainted.

.

_I sense an entirely awkward silence looming ..._

_**Please **_**REVIEW!**_ And can I just say how proud I am of this chapter's title ;)_

_Love Chariots99_


	15. Escape

_I'd just like to take a moment to thank you all for sticking by me through the good, the bad, and the extremely long waits between chapters. So – thank you._

_Oh, and this is a long one. So ... be prepared..._

**.**

**Chapter 15 – Escape**

.

'Is he alright?'

'He should be. It's not like he actually took a bullet to the brain or anything.'

'Why on earth did he just ... _faint_?'

'I don't know. It might have something to do with him coming face to face with a supposed murderer and someone who was meant to be dead.'

'Please don't take that tone with me, Alex.'

There was a pause, then Alex sighed. 'Sorry. I guess I'm still on edge.'

Desiree smiled at him tightly. 'Yeah, me too.'

Beside them, Greg exchanged looks with Pat, who looked up at Ben for an explanation, who merely rolled his eyes in return. Greg sighed, slumping back in his chair in the cabin that they'd ended up dragging the Sergeant into, after Ben, James and Cameron had joined them.

It was strange. For almost all of his life, he wanted to meet his parents. But now that they were in front of him ... well, he wasn't so sure anymore. They weren't what he'd imagined, at all. They acted like they were children, and yet there was a hardened look in their eyes that was present only in those who'd seen too much. They bickered; well, it seemed more like they were ready to kill each other, but Greg thought that maybe that was just a by-product of both of them being spies.

But the most off-putting thing about the two was just how uncomfortable they were around him. They'd known each other for half an hour, tops, and in that time had barely exchanged three words with him, instead opting to cast him several furtive glances a second, clearly unsure as to how they should address him, apparently not realising that all Greg wanted was the opportunity to actually talk to them.

His reverie was broken by a faint groaning as the Sergeant blearily opened his eyes.

'Hey Wolf!' Ben called cheerfully. 'How's it hanging?'

The Sergeant blinked at him. 'Fox?'

'The one and only. So,' Ben smirked, jumping off the table and making his way towards Wolf, 'I just thought I'd let you know that you fainted.'

'Really,' Wolf said, deadpanned, rubbing at his head. 'I would've never figured that out for myself.'

'It was rather amusing,' Ben continued. 'I mean, you sort of just ... fainted. At first, I thought Alex had shot you, since I was far away enough that I couldn't actually see anything. But no, when we got closer, it turns out that you'd just ... fainted.'

Wolf sighed. 'You're not going to let me live this down, are you?'

'Nope!' Ben said, grinning.

'Not in a million years,' Alex added, laughing.

Needless to say, Greg was extremely surprised to see anyone standing up to the Sergeant, let alone having multiple goes at him, and still stay alive.

'Alright, you know what?' said Wolf. 'I will let this go for today. However, if anyone so much as _thinks_ about this incident after today, I will very happily decapitate them.'

'Well, you haven't changed at all,' said Dessi.

Wolf stared at them all, carefully scrutinising each of the newcomers. 'So, I take you never died, you never killed him, and you actually are helping an escaped fugitive.'

'I've called you a lot of things, Wolf,' said Ben. '"Idiot" has never been one of them.'

The Sergeant shook his head, before pulling Ben into a hug. 'It's good to see you again.'

'You too.'

'Hey Cub.'

'Yeah ... I think I've outgrown that name,' said Alex, clapping Wolf on the shoulder. 'How about "Double-Oh-Awesome", or "He-Who-Lived"?'

'How about "Sparkling Vampire"?' scoffed Dessi. 'Hey Wolf.'

'Desiree,' Wolf nodded. 'Sorry I doubted you.'

'Sorry I almost threw a knife at you.'

Pat leaned forwards to whisper into Greg's ear. 'Are you lost, or is it just me?'

'Yeah, I'm not so sure how they know each other either,' Greg replied, watching the exchange in confusion.

'They knew each other before you were born,' James informed them.

'And you know that how?'

'We've been around for a lot longer than you,' Cameron said haughtily. 'That and, we may have managed to sneak certain files off the Director's desk while he wasn't looking.'

'You two are really strange,' said Pat. 'And you clearly have a death wish. I mean, what if the Director actually found out?'

'Stop worrying,' said James, flapping his hand at the younger boy. 'We're still alive.'

Leaving them to it, Greg slid off the bed, quietly skirting around the cramped cabin before he came up behind Alex Rider. 'Um ... Mr – da – Alex?' he stuttered, reaching out to tug at the man's sleeve. Alex jumped at that, looking down at him as if he were a complete stranger.

Which to be fair, he was.

'Hi,' Greg said, smiling uncertainly.

'Greg,' Alex said, returning the smile.

'Can I – can we talk?'

'Sure.'

There really wasn't anywhere in the cabin that could afford complete privacy; the best Greg could do was to draw his father a little away from the other two conversations going on. He was shaking, drawing up as much courage as he could. In his nervous state, he didn't catch the pair of crystal blue eyes that had fixed firmly onto him the moment he'd moved from his position.

'What's up?' asked Alex, a curious glint in his eyes.

'Um ...' Greg took a deep breath. 'I just ... I wanted to get to know you. As, you know, a person.' He blushed, just realising how horrible that statement was. Lucky for him though, Alex just let out a small laugh.

'Sure,' he said easily. 'What would you like to know?'

'Well ... how did you and m – Dessi meet?'

'Oh, that's a long story,' Alex said, his tone laced with amusement. 'Let's see ... I was sixteen when I got the call from a certain bank. Now at this stage I hadn't actually heard from them in two years, so you can imagine it was quite the shock –'

The door suddenly burst open, causing just about everyone to jump in shock. They all spun to see a very out-of-breath Shark leaning against the doorway, panting and swallowing and clearly desperate to say something.

'Shark ...?' Ben said, taken aback.

'They know,' he finally whispered. 'They ... MI6 ... they're coming.'

Dead silence flooded the room: Greg exchanged horrified glances with Pat from across the room, while Alex merely cracked his knuckles with a very grim expression, saying in the calmest possible tone that they'd best get going.

'We're coming with you,' said Wolf, standing up.

'No.'

Wolf looked highly taken aback as he turned to face his former teammate. 'No?'

Ben shook his head. 'This, whatever this fight is about, it's not in your world. There's no need to drag yourselves down just to help out a couple of old friends.'

'But we're on your side,' said Shark.

'Then do us a favour,' said Alex. 'Stay. We need someone on the inside if we're going to survive.'

Wolf and Shark both opened their mouths to argue further, but Ben got there first.

'I'm really, really sorry about this,' said Ben, his tone miserable.

'Sorry about wha –?' But Wolf never finished his sentence, for the next moment Ben had stepped forward and knocked one of his oldest friends out, catching him before he could crumple to the ground.

'What do you think you're doing?' Shark roared lunging forward, but Alex had understood. Quickly, he raised his own pistol, connecting it roughly against Shark's temple bare seconds before the man's fists made impact with Ben's face. The man dropped, his dead weight surprisingly heavy in Alex's arms.

'Don't worry. They'll understand,' said Dessi as they placed the unconscious men gently on the floor. 'Or, at least, Wolf will understand. Then he'll explain it to Shark.'

.

MI6 descended upon Brecon Beacons like some vengeful God. Their top agents stormed the grounds, weapons at the ready.

But their search would be futile; not only would the Sergeant be less-than-corporative, none of the soldiers felt the need to point them in the right direction either. The agents who had been previously stationed at Brecon Beacons had all disappeared mysteriously, and no one could say where they went; though there were a lot of unreadable looks being exchanged amongst the higher ranking soldiers.

By the time MI6 got their act together, Alex and the others were well clear of that hell hole.

.

'You got him?'

Those were the first words Tom uttered to them as they all trooped into his home.

'We got him,' Alex smiled wearily. 'Greg? Say hello to your Uncle Tom.'

Greg blinked up shyly. 'Hi.'

'Holy crap, he's like a miniature version of you!'

'Yeah, he's not all we ended up rescuing,' said Rose as she limped in, helped along by a very tired-looking Ben. They both dropped down onto the couch with relieved sighs, Rose immediately leaning forwards to massage her leg.

'Pat?'

'We got him,' Dessi sighed, ushering Patrick in. 'We also got –'

'Hey hey!' James grinned, jumping in through the doorway, before crouching down as Cameron leaped over him. 'Wow, cool house mister!'

Tom groaned. 'Really? _Really?_'

'We had to,' said Alex.

'Of course you did,' said Tom, shaking his head. 'Always playing the hero, aren't you? You guys just be thankful I actually went shopping, or we'd all starve to death.'

'Don't mind him,' Alex said, rolling his eyes as he pushed Greg further into the house. 'He's crazy.'

'I think we all are, to a certain extent,' said Dessi, setting down the box within with contained five SAS standard issue guns. They hoped Wolf wouldn't be missing them ... or at least, understand why they had taken them.

'Oh, the glamorous life of a spy,' Rose grinned, before her laptop gave off a very high-pitched noise.

'When was the last time you recharged that thing?' Ben asked.

'Um ... a while,' admitted Rose sheepishly, pulling the dying laptop towards her. 'Pat, could you –?' Pat was already connecting the wire to the socket, quickly restoring power to the laptop.

'I'm hungry!' Cameron pronounced.

'Me too,' James added.

Dessi blinked. 'Yeah, I guess I am as well ... anyone else want food?' At the roomful of nods, she got up and dragged Tom with her into the kitchen.

'Oh wow, I'd completely forgotten,' Rose suddenly whispered.

Alex's head snapped up. 'Forgotten what?'

'Um ...' nervously, Rose licked her lips. 'Okay, so you know when you guys were breaking into the Bank? Well, I was sorta looking up some stuff. About Michaelis Menten.'

And that immediately caught everyone's attention.

'I was going to tell you guys ... but then you came out with three kids instead of one, and then there was the whole drive to Brecon Beacons, and after that you had to think about how you'd actually get in without being seen –'

'Rose,' Ben said. 'Just ... tell us.'

'Well,' Rose sighed. 'Alright, so Menten, as we all know, has always been FBI territory. You know, they've basically staked a claim over him and everything. But what we didn't know is that Menten used to work for the FBI. He's ... he's an ex-FBI operative who went as bad as you could get.'

'As we've experienced firsthand,' Alex muttered.

'Yes, well ... before he was blacklisted, he was considered something of a specialist in the field of genetics,' said Rose.

'What does that have to do with anything?' James frowned, confused.

'Genetics,' said Ben heavily, 'has always been a field of interest in the espionage world. Just imagine it; if somehow they can isolate or recreate genes that makes one better adapted to the life of an agent, they can create an army of ... well, superspies.'

Tom's shout suddenly broke through. 'Dessi!'

Alex jumped to his feet when he heard the loud clatter, running into the kitchen in time to catch Desiree as she basically keeled over. Close behind him was Greg, who stopped short upon seeing the mess and the half-collapsed woman.

'What happened?' he asked.

'Well,' Tom began as everyone looked to him for the answer. 'We could hear you guys talking. And we were talking about what you guys were talking about. And then she kinda froze, and I thought she was having a panic attack and she dropped the plates she was holding and I panicked.'

At that moment, Dessi stirred in Alex's arms. 'Wha – what happened?'

'You almost did a Wolf,' Alex said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. And it would've worked took, were it not for the fact that his voice was all but suffocated by concern. 'Are you alright?'

'Yeah,' frowned Dessi, pushing herself back to her feet and rubbing her head. 'This has got to stop happening.'

'Maybe you should sit down,' Greg spoke up, hesitantly reaching out for Dessi's hand. When she took it, he led her out of the kitchen, both of them hiding their smiles. Alex rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help laughing with Tom as he followed them back.

'We all good?' Rose asked, her eyes trained on Dessi, who nodded.

'Sure? You seem to be ... well, having some trouble recently,' said Ben.

'I'll get over it.'

'What were you saying before, Rose? Something about Menten being into genetics?' Alex asked, smiling as Dessi shot him a relieved glance.

'Oh yeah ... um,' Rose bit her lip, casting on last look at Dessi before returning her gaze to the laptop. 'Well, the FBI had him working on the whole isolating gene thing. But it seems like something went wrong, because next thing you know, he was on the run and being chased by every Intelligence Agency in the country. The CIA apparently even granted its agents permission to shoot to kill if they ever spotted Menten.'

'Do you know what went wrong?' asked Greg.

'Not a clue. It's not published in the MI6 database, or in the FBI's, _or_ NCIS's.' Rose shook her head. 'It's like the huge elephant in the room that people will just refuse to talk about. And I get the feeling that whatever it is, it's the missing link to figuring out ... well, _everything_.'

Dessi bit her lip. 'Have you tried the AIS?'

'No,' said Rose, looking rather taken aback.

'Their database contains almost everything,' she said. 'Which it should, considering they steal almost everything.'

There was a pause as Rose went to work, typing furiously on her laptop, before Pat spoke up with a confused frown. 'Wait, what's the "AIS"?'

'Australian Intelligence Service,' said Dessi.

'Officially non-existent,' Alex added, before exchanging a private glance with her.

'Do I want to know?' asked Greg, looking between the two. Apparently, Ben found his question rather amusing, if his hastily muffled chortles were anything to go by. He wasn't even deterred by the dirty look Alex sent his way.

'Uh-oh,' Rose suddenly said, looking up from the screen, her face paler than they'd ever seen.

'"Uh-oh"? What do you mean, "uh-oh"?' Ben said.

'Well ...'

At that moment, a harsh, ear-splitting alarm went off within the house, causing everyone to jump and whack their hands over their ears. Everyone that is, except Dessi, who immediately leapt off her chair and ran out of the room. Apparently, she knew how to turn the alarm off, for the next second absolute silence flooded the house. When Dessi walked back in, she was pale and tense, her eyes flooded with the cool chill of someone about to walk into a deadly mission.

'What was that?' Cameron asked shakily.

'I rigged traps around the neighbourhood to let us know if anyone wanted to come and kill us,' said Dessi.

'I take it people are coming to kill us then?' Alex asked almost calmly.

'Wait, how did they even find us?' Tom spoke up for the first time, looking terrified.

'That would be my fault,' said Rose. 'I ... the AIS had some kind of rebounding firewall or something – it's new, I've never seen it before. When I tried to get past it, it latched onto my system ... and it's currently eating up all the documents on this computer.'

'Along with giving our position away,' concluded Ben.

'Yeah,' Rose grimaced.

'Okay,' Alex said, immediately taking charge. 'Everyone, arm yourselves. Kids, stay in the back. Tom, move Rose to the bedroom and stay there with her. Take a gun with you. Dessi – do you know how many people are coming?'

'Well, judging from the sheer volume of that alarm, a _lot_,' said Dessi, accepting the weapon Alex tossed to her.

'Tom! Move!' Alex barked, when his friend just remained rooted to the spot.

'Right!' Tom jumped hastily, grabbing the protesting Rose and hauling her to her feet, before supporting almost all her weight as he dragged her out of view. Distantly they heard the bedroom door slam shut, and several creaking sounds indicating Tom wisely barricading the door.

'We want to help!' James spoke up, his gaze deadly serious.

'We know how to fight,' nodded Cameron, cracking his knuckles.

'Not to this level,' muttered Dessi as she rapidly familiarized herself with her weapon. She received several glares for her comment.

'You were our age when you first entered the field – even younger,' said Greg with a scowl.

'That was different,' Alex and Dessi spoke at exactly the same time.

'That was scary,' Pat muttered.

'Besides, you're going to have to fight anyway,' said Ben calmly. 'The point of you staying in the back is so that we can stop the first wave; they're always the hardest to deal with. Don't worry, before the day is out you'll have had your fill of excitement.'

There wasn't really much more to say. Fact of the matter was, without the kids, the three of them would be horribly out-numbered. Even with the kids, they were horribly out-numbered, but with four more bodies to deal with, Alex was hoping it would confuse their assailants for long enough that they could figure out some escape plan. At the end of the day, even if they'd hidden the kids away, they would still not be safe.

'Alex,' came the soft whisper. Alex glanced sideways into crystal blue eyes, as Dessi shot him a small smile.

And then, the entire front wall of Tom's house was blown to smithereens.

.

Even from the bedroom, they felt the shocks of the explosion.

Tom whimpered, as Rose's fingers just tightened around the gun she'd wrestled from him.

'They'd better be safe,' she whispered. 'They'd better keep him safe.'

'You just worry about yourself,' he replied.

They lapsed into silence as the distinct scuffles of a fight broke out. Several shots were fired, several screams of pain filled the air. Tom winced; in his petrified state, his mind conjured the most horrible images to accompany the sounds. Of Ben, knocked out with deadly blows. Of Dessi, shot and bleeding. Of the kids being picked off one by one. And of his best friend, tortured to –

A sharp pain to his arm drew him out of his morbid thoughts with a yelp. Turning, he glared at Rose, who stared back defiantly with a raised eyebrow. She shook her head, and after a moment he nodded in thanks.

All that was left was to hope and pray.

.

Dessi was the one who fired off the first shots.

Alex growled, knocking her aim off. 'Why are you shooting to kill?'

'Why aren't you?' she retorted, her arm whipping out with barely a second thought; across the garden, a man fell with a bullet right between the eyes.

'Just disarm them!' Alex shouted furiously, even as Ben rushed out to confront the attackers head-on.

'Yes, because that will stop them for long!'

And then Dessi was gone too, darting out into the sun, moving much faster than Alex had anticipated.

There was a huge armed force that had shown up to attack them. At least thirty men were present, perhaps even more, with almost all wearing bullet-proof armour. The reason Dessi had resorted to headshots. Distantly, Alex was aware that five or six of the men were already incapacitated, hovering on the edge of the garden, waiting for the others to attack first; they were pulling out deadly looking barbs from under skin, and several of them were already pretty badly cut up. Grimly, Alex had to wonder exactly what kind of traps Dessi had set up for them.

'Alex?' Cameron pulled on his sleeve. 'Alex?'

'Yes?'

'I – those men? Half of them are MI6 agents,' the boy said with a worried frown.

'I know,' said Alex. And he did; he'd almost immediately recognised Crawley who, even after all these years, looked exactly the same. 'Pat, Greg? Do me a favour; go and evacuate the neighbours. Since MI6 obviously has no intentions of getting innocents out of the way.'

The two boys nodded and immediately set off, barrelling out of the collapsed front wall and ducking through the fights, covering each other's back.

'What should we do?' James asked.

'Stay here. Make sure none of them get into the house,' said Alex. 'You're the last line; the moment they get past you, they get to Tom and Rose. A civilian and an injured agent left for dead, both of whom they would have no issues killing.'

'You can count on us,' said Cameron, as James nodded determinedly beside him.

'Good.' And with that, Alex set off, leaping over the ruins and straight into the fray. He knocked out two agents immediately when he took them by surprise, pulling their unconscious bodies away from Ben who shot him a thankful look as they both moved on to the next battle.

From the corner of his eye, Alex made sure to keep a record of his son's progress across the garden. At one stage, an agent had whipped around to aim at the two boys, but before Alex – with his heart in his throat – could do anything, a single shot was fired and the agent collapsed with a bullet to the knee. Behind him, Dessi raised an eyebrow as if questioning if shooting someone in the joint was better than killing them outright, before she lowered her gun and darted away. Alex just shook his head.

Some sixth sense suddenly screamed at him to duck, and not a moment too soon. As soon as Alex dropped to his knees, he heard the sound of something whistling above him, right past where his head had been not two seconds ago. Spinning, he quickly lashed out, swiping the other agent's legs out from under him and quickly disarming him of his weapon while he was still disorientated. A sharp jab to the temple knocked him out. Alex frowned down at the now-unconscious man, a sense of familiarity piercing through him like a bullet. Cautiously, he reached down and unbuckled the man's body armour, before reaching into the hidden pocket and pulling out his ID.

He almost dropped it in shock.

For there, engraved upon a silver star, was one very dauntingly familiar symbol. And underneath that was carved the name "_Agent Harvey_". Harvey ... that was the man who'd cornered Alex all those years ago, when he'd snuck into the Intelligence Surveillance Building of the AIS.

Even as he pocketed the badge, his eyes began to pick out others that his brain had previously refused to process. And the more he looked, the more his heart sank. Because that man, and that man ... and _that_ man were definitely guards he remembered seeing during his imprisonment upon that God-forsaken island.

'They're working together,' he breathed. 'Those bastards are all in on this.'

They had to get out. They had to get out now.

Because, for whatever reason, MI6 and AIS had joined forces with Michaelis Menten.

.

'Come on, hurry!' Greg shouted, as the neighbours ran for cover. 'Pat, hurry up!'

'I'm coming!' yelled Pat, ducking a stray piece of shrapnel that went hurtling over his head. 'Alright, let's go!'

The two boys hurried back into the fray, away from the desperate arms of the neighbours, all trying to stop children from running into the line of fire. They had no idea how different these two boys were.

'Let's go help your dad!' said Pat grimly, grabbing a fallen gun while Greg quickly drew the one he'd scabbed off his ... off Alex.

'Right,' Greg said hastily, taking the gun off safety. He'd never shot anyone before, not with the intention to maim and maybe even kill. But there was no time to think, not now; one stray thought could mean the difference between life and death.

Greg covered Pat as the two sprinted towards where Alex, Dessi and Ben had clumped together. Safety in numbers.

'Mr Rider – we evacuated everyone!' Pat shouted over the dim, as Greg shoved him down before his arm was accidentally amputated.

'Good job,' came the reply, even as Alex dived forwards to engage one of the men that had crept up on Greg.

An arm closed around Greg's arm. Startled, he was about to jerk away and raise his gun when his eyes suddenly met identical crystal blue. Dessi gave him a distracted sort of smile, before quickly pulling him behind her, using her own body as a shield as she fired off several shots, while Alex dealt the final blow.

'Pat, get inside,' she said. 'Go keep James and Cameron company.'

'O – okay,' blinked Pat, before he turned and ran into the house.

'What about me, mu – Dessi?' Greg asked, wincing when he saw Dessi tense at his slip.

'You're coming with me,' said Ben. Suddenly, Greg found his wrist in a firm grip as the older man began to drag him away.

'Wha –?' but Greg didn't even bother struggling when he saw that Alex and Dessi were both coming, covering them while he was slowly dragged towards their car. 'Wait, are we going on a road trip?'

'You could say that,' smiled Dessi tightly. 'Just get in.'

Greg clambered into the back seat with Ben while Alex took to the wheel and Dessi rolled down the window all the way to keep firing and keep the invaders at bay.

'Step on it!' she shouted.

The engine roared as Alex slammed his foot on the accelerator, and suddenly the car shot off, miraculously not hitting anyone or running over any of the fallen bodies.

'Wait, we're just leaving them?' Greg asked desperately, looking back to see the intruders barging into the house, and most definitely into his friends. Even in his mind, he could see the three of them putting up a desperate fight to stop them from reaching Rose and Uncle Tom. He just hoped none of them would be killed in the process.

'They're after us,' said Alex grimly, glancing in the rear-view mirror even as four cars began to appear, to begin the chase. 'As long as we keep the heat off them, they'll be fine. Dessi – do something!'

'I'm trying!' shouted Dessi, her entire upper body out the window as she did her best to shatter the windscreens of the other cars. 'Maybe if you drive in a straight line –'

'Now is not the time for this!' exclaimed Ben, taking the gun off Greg so that he could join in the shoot-off.

Out of nowhere, a vivid red car pulled up beside them. Seeing the very deadly rifle aimed right at him, Greg hurriedly ducked, dragging Ben down with him just as the man fired off several shots. The windows were blown out, and he was showered with a spray of glass, even as Dessi whirled around to retaliate. But she was twisted awkwardly, and couldn't get a clear shot without maiming Alex at the same time.

Beside him, Ben growled low in his throat, and suddenly Greg found himself pulled to the side as Ben scrambled over him.

'Take care of those two for me, kid,' said Ben.

Before any of them could react, he'd dived out the shattered window and straight into the red car, which swerved at the unexpected intrusion, veering off to the side before crashing headfirst into the lamp post.

'BEN!' Alex shouted, twisting in his seat to look back at his fallen comrade.

'_Keep driving_!' Dessi screamed, lunging for the steering wheel as the car veer off sharply with Alex's movement.

Greg held on desperately as Alex fought to get the car back on track, before quickly hitting the accelerator. The other three cars were closing in, and Dessi was the only one armed and able to fight back. The situation wasn't exactly the best one to be in.

'Where are we going?' Greg asked, scared out of his mind.

There was a grim silence as Dessi and Alex exchanged looks that conveyed so many thoughts with a single blink.

'Australia,' Dessi finally said through gritted teeth, firing off several more shots. 'If we can't hack into that effing database without being tracked, then we're going straight to the source. Besides, that was where all this stupidity started; I'm going to get to the bottom of this mystery even if it kills me.'

'Planning on apparating then?' Alex shouted over the wind that whistled in through the shattered windows.

'Got a better idea?'

Alex blinked, before a smirk slowly spread across his face. 'Actually yeah. Here, take the wheel ...'

The two awkwardly switched seats, somehow managing to crawl over each other while keeping the steering wheel straight. Once in the passenger seat, Alex pulled out his phone, as Dessi tossed the gun to Greg, who used it to shatter the windscreen of the black car that was tailgating them, forcing that car to veer away.

'Nice shot,' said Dessi, impressed, while Alex spoke quickly to whoever was on the other end of his call.

'Thanks,' said Greg, grinning and feeling elated despite the dire situation.

'How long do you think we can hold them off for?' Alex asked.

'Um ...' Dessi glanced in the rear-view mirror. 'I don't know. Five, ten minutes?'

Alex said something into the phone, before hanging up. 'We've got approximately seven minutes.'

'Until?'

'Uh, guys?' Greg said suddenly, cutting into the conversation. 'Don't want to alarm you but ... they've just, well, pulled out several hand grenades.' Even as he spoke, a sleek blue car was pulling alongside theirs, the man already pulling the pin on two grenades. Those two grenades were suddenly flying through the air as if in slow motion, headed straight for the non-existent window beside Greg, who instinctively put up his arms to cover himself while Alex shouted something and futilely aimed his gun. It was Desiree though, who came up with the escape plan.

She gunned it.

All three of them were thrown back in their seats as she slammed her foot against the accelerator, the engine in their car whining under the sudden strain as it shot forwards, leaping away from the grenades which detonated a bare second later, a fierce fireball of flames and smoke that would've incinerated anything in its path. The blue car that had been following them barely escaped. The final car though, a nondescript silver one, didn't stand a chance.

'Keep driving!' Alex shouted. 'Whatever you do, don't stop!'

'Wasn't planning on it!' Dessi retorted, swerving wildly when an innocent car appeared out of nowhere.

'What's coming in seven minutes?' Greg asked.

There was a smirk on Alex's face as he replied: 'An old friend.' At that moment, the black care with the missing windscreen rejoined the chase, hanging back to avoid being shot while still providing enough shooting power that Dessi was forced to drive almost recklessly, swerving around in the street at a dangerously high speed.

Seven minutes later, the air was suddenly filled with the rumble of powerful engines.

A huge cargo plane came into view, flying lower than anyone had ever seen. It over took their battered car with barely enough breathing space, before landing with a thud on the thankfully straight road right in front of them. The door to the cargo hold dropped open, forming a ramp.

It was an amazing sight. The looming cargo plane travelling just under take-off speed, the ramp open and kicking up sparks from its impact with the road. The well and truly dented car desperately trying to keep up, its engine whining under the strain. And the blue and black cars which had pulled back in shock at the sight of the plane.

'Go, go, _go_!' Alex shouted, pointing at the ramp.

With gritted teeth, Dessi forced the car even faster. Greg was certain that they would break down before they even reached the plane, but somehow, they were gaining ground, the ramp looming closer and closer.

'Come on, Dessi!' Alex egged her on. 'The road swerves soon – we're not going to get another chance!'

Snarling, Dessi jammed her foot against the accelerator so hard that there was a sudden bang, and a poof of smoke that definitely was not meant to appear. But, for whatever reason, the car jumped forwards.

They hit the ramp with a screech of tires, tottering up into the cargo hold before skidding to a halt. By the sounds of the car, they would not get it to start once more.

The moment they'd safely entered the cargo hold, the ramp kicked back up, closing tightly, shutting them in. Outside, the blue and black cars crashed into the plane, rather like ants into a giant, before being batted away like flies as the cargo plane picked up speed once more, its engines roaring ferociously, before they took off into the sky once more.

The moment the plane tilted, Greg quickly grabbed the nearest pillar, holding on tightly with one hand while strapping himself in by the SAS-issue ropes that hung on the pillars for that sole reason. SAS ... With a frown, he looked around to see Dessi basically in Alex's arms, having apparently lost her footing when the plane took off.

They were all silent, listening to the plane's steady climb. It wasn't until they'd reached their final height that he spoke up.

'This is an SAS plane, isn't it?' he asked.

'Got it in one,' said Alex, smiling at him fondly.

Greg nodded. That explained the ropes, which he'd clearly remembered being trained how to use during his second day at Brecon Beacons.

Dessi was staring at Alex in wonder. 'How did ... how did you even –'

'Like I said,' Alex laughed, a pleased expression on his face. 'An old friend.'

At that moment, the door to the cargo hold sprung open. The man who stood there was vaguely familiar to Greg; he remembered seeing him in one of the photos the Sergeant had had on his table, a photo with five men ... one of whom had been his father.

Alex grinned up at the man. 'Hey Eagle! Long time no see, huh?'

Eagle! The Captain of the Air Force! Greg was sure his jaw had dropped right down to the ground, his expression rather similar to Dessi's at that point.

'Hello, you three,' grinned Eagle, waving. 'Somebody ask for a lift?'

.

_And breathe. Wow, pretty sure I held my breath the entire time writing that! How's that for an action scene, eh? Please leave a __**REVIEW!**_

Next time: The Secret is revealed, and something so shocking happens, I think you'll all actually try and kill me ...

Love the StarKids? Sorta like Glee? Then check out my new fic, **Damn that GLEE**! There you'll find Brian stuck in a fictional reality, Joe and Joey confusing everyone, Meredith ripping into Darren, Jaimee facing off against Lea, and the lovely Lauren Lopez travelling via air duct ;)


	16. Forever

_Longest chapter yet, I think! Enjoy! Oh, and don't own, please don't sue ;)_

_Thank you so much to all my reviewers. You guys rock!_

**.**

**Chapter 16 – Forever **

.

No matter what people say, being stuck in a flight from England to Australia with your formerly dead parents was not an easy thing, especially when said parents themselves had barely matured. The awkwardness between the three was astounding, so much so that it sent the Air Force Captain scrambling away from the cargo hold under the pretence that he was getting some water. That had been forty minutes ago. He'd yet to return.

And really, Greg couldn't blame him. Back before, when he'd thought his parents were still dead, he'd imagined them to be loving and caring people, who were adored by others and who doted on him. He'd definitely imagined them to have actually gotten along quite well, considering they had a child together. Now that he met them though ... well, Alex and Dessi seemed to enjoy bickering with each other a little too much to be considered normal.

'Hey, Greg.'

Greg jumped, turning away from where he'd been watching his parents sniping at each other, to see that Eagle had returned from his quest to find water. Currently, he was beckoning towards Greg, who approached with a confused look in his still-innocent blue eyes. 'Yeah?'

'Just wanted to talk to you for a bit,' Eagle shrugged, a little smile playing around his lips. 'You okay?'

'Um ... I guess?'

Eagle's eyes flickered to Alex and Dessi, before quirking an eyebrow at Greg. 'Your parents really are something, huh?'

Greg made an unconvincing sound in his throat.

'Now I definitely know something's wrong,' said Eagle. 'No child of Alex's would go this long without some snarky remark.'

That drew a reluctant smile out of Greg. 'Well, it's just ... I never expected them to fight so much, you know?

'You thought you'd be one big happy family?' said Eagle, maybe a little too understandingly.

'I guess.' Greg sighed. 'It just feels like they hate each other or something. I swear, they've not stopped arguing since ... well, since I met them.'

'They don't hate each other,' said Eagle, quick to assure him. 'You have to understand that this whole thing is even harder on them. I mean, your father spent your entire life locked up in a cell, for the pure amusement of some madman. The result of him somehow surviving, somehow _fighting_ through all those years, have made him much older than he should be. He sees the world completely differently to the way you or I do, because he's seen so much more. Following so far?'

'Yeah.'

'Good. Now, your mother lost most of her memories in one go, and for your entire life, she was unable to retain or create any new memories, simply because her mind was that screwed up. Whatever it was that triggered her mind to begin repairing itself – well, I guess you'll have to ask her, since no one ever bothered letting me know. But with Dessi, the last thing she remembers is still being twenty. And, trust me when I say this, but when she was twenty, she went through some pretty deep shit.'

Greg laughed slightly at the language.

'So she's at the height of going through some pretty angsty stuff,' continued Eagle. 'She never got to mature; essentially, she still acts like she's twenty, hasty decisions and all. Mash that against one very aged Alex Rider, and you've got yourself a bit of an issue. I'm sure things will get better once her memory fully reforms and Alex figures out how to act his age – by the way, _has_ her memory come back yet?'

'I ... I don't think so,' Greg looked away, too ashamed to admit that he hadn't bothered asking.

But Eagle seemed to understand. 'Don't blame yourself, kid. Look, I'm not saying your parents are perfect – far from it, if you've seen the things I have. But you need to remember that they both lost years off their life; they need to remember how to function as a person before they even begin thinking of how to act like a family.'

Sighing, Greg nodded. 'Yeah, I guess you're right. I wish we were a family now, but I get where you're coming from.'

'Good,' said Eagle smiling. He rested a hand on Greg's shoulder. 'People change when they get older. And your parents were pretty unusual to start off with. Remarkable people, but damn they were strange.'

Greg laughed.

'It's true. Maybe one day you'll hear all about their adventures, but for now, just take it one small step at a time.'

'Okay. Thanks Captain,' Greg said.

'Call me Eagle. "Captain" is only for those whom I wish to intimidate,' grinned Eagle. 'And as far as I'm concerned, you're family.'

With that, Eagle departed once more, leaving Greg to stare after him with his jaw hanging rather loosely.

.

They were planning – _hoping_ – to take on the AIS by surprise, since the only people who would know about their unauthorised road-trip were the agents who'd been involved in the car chase; it seemed having the Sergeant of the SAS on their side was a rather useful thing. Though really, it was like Dessi dryly said:

'I think even they would've noticed by now the massive SAS plane that dropped us off.'

Still, Eagle had directed the pilots to land in a rather abandoned looking strip of land that was decently close to the AIS campus, but far away enough that it gave them some change of getting away unnoticed. They would have to approach the AIS on foot, a journey that would take them close to three hours. Their path would be dictated based solely upon Greg's familiarity with the neighbourhood and Dessi's admittedly lacking memory of how they could actually get into the campus unseen.

Of course, since it was them, things didn't always go according to plan.

'This place looks very familiar,' said Dessi, her eyes darting around, taking in the houses. 'I don't remember why ...'

'My orphanage is here,' Greg offered. 'Just down there – "With Open Arms". See it?'

Alex started at the name. 'Wait – Des, isn't that –?'

'Yes,' said Dessi, eyes widening in realisation.

'What?' Greg asked.

'That was my old orphanage; that's why this place looks so familiar!' said Dessi, looking around with renewed interest. 'Huh, that house is _definitely_ new.'

'Does this mean you know where you're going?' Alex asked hopefully. He was absolutely convinced that they were lost, but since Dessi was the only one of the three who actually knew how to get to the AIS campus, they had to trust her word and her rather unstable memory.

They were, however, interrupted at that moment by a loud and very surprised: 'Greg!'

Alex spun, almost immediately stepping back into a defensive pose. Beside him, Dessi had a rather similar reaction, her hand flying to her side where, once, there would have been a gun holstered to her hip. Greg however, beamed even before he'd fully turned to face the newcomer.

'Sandy!'

'Greg! What are you doing here?' The woman rushed down the steps of With Open Arms, drawing Greg into a hug. It took almost two seconds for Alex to place Sandy's face. When he did, Alex's eyes widened in shock as he realised who this woman was. Dessi too, had the same reaction, her crystal blue eyes swinging around to lock onto his gaze.

Meanwhile, Greg seemed to have no idea about the reaction Sandy had brought to his parents, even as he untangled himself and said: 'I thought you'd be at work!'

'Emanuel covered my shift today – Melinda's come down with chicken pox, and I'm pretty much going to be living here full-time,' said Sandy, sighing. 'My husband even tagged along to help; and can I just say, I did not realise he was that good around kids.'

'Don't get any ideas,' came an amused voice. A rather tall man stepped out of the orphanage, wrapping his arms around Sandy. 'Hello Greg. Nice to see you again.'

'Hi,' Greg smiled, shaking the offered hand.

It was only when the man looked up at Alex that he recognised who he was. Terry Phillips, AIS agent ... or at least, ex-agent. Dean's old partner. A member of the old Unit One, when Jake had been alive and they'd all been much younger and less scarred...

Terry too, seemed to instantly recognise him. In shock, his eyes swung across to Dessi, who was still staring at him nonplussed. What happened next ... well, they all should've really seen coming.

Drawing his gun from a hidden pocket, Terry pushed Sandy and Greg out of the way, strolled over to Dessi, and pointed the gun directly at her heart. At that moment, Dessi's eyes lit up in recognition, before glancing down to the gun and back up, confused. There was a brief moment when her face went blank; Alex was certain she had slid into yet another round of memories.

A second later, Sandy shrieked. 'TERRY! What – what are – how –?'

'Alex?' Greg's voice was much softer. 'Why does he have a gun?'

'Um ... let's just say that he was your mum's old friend,' Alex said. Because how on earth do you explain such a thing to a child? He was about to move in though, to intervene before someone got hurt. But Greg's hand suddenly became vice-like within his own. Alex looked down questioningly, and Greg blushed.

'I just ... I think this is their fight,' the boy stammered.

Not that it was really much of a fight. Terry and Dessi were staring at each other, almost as if they were having a silent conversation. Occasionally, one set of eyes would flicker towards him, before they once again locked gazes with each other.

Then suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, the gun was dropped to the ground, and Dessi and Terry moved so fast that Alex didn't even catch the motion. One moment, they were standing stock-still, staring at each other ... and the next, Dessi had all but leaped into Terry's arms. Her face was buried in his shoulder, and his in her hair; the two were making strange, muffled sounds, like a mix between laughter and crying.

Greg tugged on his hand. 'Did I miss something?'

'I'm not sure...' Alex frowned. But then it hit him – they never got to say goodbye. This was fourteen years of hurt, and anger, and betrayal being let loose. And he was almost certain Terry was whispering something about Jake into her ear.

It was Sandy who summed it all up. 'Well, this certainly has been a strange day.' Turns out, she'd recognised him too.

.

'We need to break into the AIS.'

There was a moment's pause, before Terry let out a derisive laugh. 'Good luck with that!'

'You don't think we can do it?' said Dessi, her voice immediately defensive.

'No.'

'Why not?'

'Is that a trick question?' asked Terry. 'Des, you're unstable. Rider over there ... well, he might be able to pull it off. Rider Junior has no clue what's going on. You're odds aren't really in your favour, not this time.'

'Back in the day, you would never have cared,' said Dessi.

'Yeah? Well, back in the day, the whole team would still be together.' Terry shook his head. 'Back in the day, I thought we were invincible.'

Alex and Greg exchanged uncomfortable glances; at that moment, their expressions mirrored each others' exactly. But neither Dessi nor Terry noticed, engrossed as they were in their familiar banter. It was Sandy, sitting in the dingy basement of the orphanage, uncomfortably out of place and so out of her depths, who finally spoke up.

'Why do you want to go there anyway?' She looked so confused, desperately trying to follow the multiple trains of thoughts that flew past; Alex wasn't really sure how much of his brief, ten second explanation about the AIS actually sunk in.

'There's information that we need,' said Dessi. 'That's the only place we can get it.'

'What kind of information?'

'I don't know.'

'You're not being much help,' commented Terry mildly.

'You haven't even told your wife why you have a gun!' Dessi shot back.

'Come to think of it, why do you have a gun?' Alex asked. 'Surely when you quit, the AIS would've confiscated the thing?'

'It's not his.' Dessi's voice had suddenly gone quiet. Alex saw the furtive glance Terry sent her way. 'The weapon – it's not his.'

'I don't understand; whose is it, then?' asked Greg.

And suddenly, something clicked within Alex's mind. 'It's Jake's. Isn't it?'

'Yeah.'

Silently, Alex wrapped an arm around Dessi's shoulders, letting the woman lean her head against him.

'I smuggled it out of the AIS,' admitted Terry. 'It didn't seem right, you know? Passing it on to someone else. They never suspected; I think Dean did something with the evidence data, made them think the gun was destroyed in the fire.'

Beside him, Alex heard Greg whispering to Sandy: 'I think I'm missing something.'

'I think I am, too,' she replied.

After several more minutes of pleading with Terry (not to mention several subtly veiled threats), he finally caved in and agreed to help them sneak onto the AIS campus. Sandy refused point blank to be left behind, stating that her presence as a civilian would give them a more believable excuse if they were to be pulled over by the police. And really, for someone who'd just found out her husband had been lying to her for over fourteen years, she was taking things rather well.

That was how they found themselves rolling under a rather convenient gap in the fence, a gap that had apparently been purposely placed there after a fire-drill had resulted in several AIS agents being unable to escape due to the fact that all the gates had firmly shut. While the gap was a definite weak points, according to Terry the area was constantly patrolled by agents.

If it weren't for his warning, they would've never seen them coming.

'FREEZE!' came the shout, and the unmistakable sound of guns being drawn. Alex spun; he'd gone under the gap first, and had pulled Greg through. Dessi was supposed to be next. But apparently fate had other ideas.

Alex swore under his breath. The agents had come at them from the wrong side of the fence, from the outside; Dessi, Terry, and Sandy had nowhere to run. They were sitting ducks.

Dessi apparently, had other plans.

'Move her!' she shouted, turning to face the oncoming assault. Terry blinked, once, before grabbing his wife and quickly guiding her towards the gap. He whispered something into her ear, to which she nodded, before he stood and strolled back to Dessi's side.

Sandy quickly wriggled under the gap, Alex and Greg grabbing her arms to help pull her out into safety.

'Aren't you going to help them?' she asked breathlessly.

Alex looked up in time to see Dessi and Terry move into the fray, their actions almost in unison, their bodies remembering the hours upon hours of training that had conditioned them to be able to guard each others' backs. 'Uh, yeah ... I don't think they need any help.'

Even as he watched, Alex was sure that AIS standards had dropped since fourteen years ago. Maybe it was because they'd lost their best unit almost at the same time. Maybe it was just because of some form of natural deterioration. Whatever it was, the four agents who'd come after them were no match for Dessi and Terry, who worked so well together that any stranger to the situation may as well have thought of them as being partners.

Alex, however, had his eye on one of the agents. He looked very familiar, tall and blonde, clicking his gun off silent. But there was something in the way he was studying Dessi, as if he recognised her, like Alex recognised him. It suddenly clicked in his mind just who that man was. It was also apparent that he had yet to remember why Dessi looked so familiar to him, even as he raised his gun to aim. Biting his lip, Alex did the one thing he could to stop Dessi from being shot.

'Desiree! To your left!' he shouted.

Immediately, Dessi ducked and spun to her left, lashing out with so much power that the agent doubled over, looking as if he were about to puke. However, Alex's call had its intended effect, for the AIS agent froze on the spot, his eyes widening as he finally placed Dessi. Alex smirked.

_Oh still have so much to learn,_ he couldn't help but think. _So much ... Agent Matthew Lake._

Terry struck out, and the agent he'd targeted collapsed. Agent Lake was the last one standing, but instead of advancing on them, he was rapidly retreating. Dessi and Terry exchanged glances, before they both shrugged and quickly wriggled under the gap.

'That went well,' said Dessi as Alex helped her up. 'And was that –?'

'Yep,' Alex said. 'I'm surprised it took him that long to recognise you.'

'Good work jogging his memory though.'

It was Sandy who raised the most pressing issue at hand. 'What are you going to do now? Because, in case you hadn't noticed, you've somehow managed to drag me into your little spy headquarter thingy. And I'd really appreciate not being arrested ... or shot.'

Terry wrapped an arm around her. 'Don't worry dear, I'll protect you.'

'You can just get back out and wait for us at the car,' Alex pointed out.

'I think it might be safer if we stayed together,' Greg piped up. 'I mean, you know ... we can all watch each other's backs and stuff.'

Alex noticed Dessi gazing at their son with something rather akin to pity in her eyes. Quickly, he decided to navigate away from dangerous waters. 'Let's get moving before those guys wake up and alert the crew. Sandy ... just stay close to Terry. Des –'

'I got this,' said Dessi, her hand resting against the faint outline of Tom's kitchen knife. 'You still know your way around?'

'Vaguely.'

'The ISB's just over there,' said Terry, pointing.

'And what are the chances of making it there without being spotted?' Alex asked as they set off.

'Less than zero,' came the reply. And almost as soon as the words were out of Terry's mouth, a high pitched and very shrill alarm began echoing out of speakers hidden in the trees and at the sides of buildings. They could all hear the shouting as AIS agents scrambled madly into the open, trying to spot the intruders. Terry and Dessi quickly hurried them forwards, trying to avoid the clusters of agents at the edge of their vision.

Someone suddenly stumbled into their view; Alex spun at the same moment the female agent's eyes widened in shock. She opened his mouth, no doubt to yell for backup, but suddenly there was a flash of silver flying through the air. The sound that came out of the agent was a strange gurgle; her hands flew up to her neck, before she toppled over.

They all stared at her still figure on the ground, before everyone's gaze fell on Dessi, who raised an eyebrow at them all. 'What?'

'Never mind,' Alex said, shaking his head; this was not something he needed to deal with right now. 'Let's go. Quickly. Before another one comes.'

'I never liked that woman anyway,' muttered Terry as he led them away. They'd almost reached the entrance to the Intelligence Surveillance Building when they were set upon en masse. And it happened so abruptly, it took them all by surprise.

'DUCK!' Alex shouted, even as he dragged Greg down. Above him came the distinctly familiar feel of bullets flying right past his head. Apparently, these guys were now shooting to kill.

'Sandy!' roared Terry, as two agents grabbed the only civilian in the group and began to drag her into the ISB.

'TERRY!' screamed Sandy as she struggled.

'Sandy! _LET HER GO!_'

'Terry!' shouted Dessi. Terry turned, and Dessi lobbed his gun back at him, which he then used to shoot down the two agents who'd tried to grab his wife; when Dessi had gotten hold of the gun, Alex wasn't sure. But at that moment, he had more important things to deal with.

'Greg, if you get the chance, I want you to run,' Alex said, as Greg dropped to his knees and kicked an agent's legs out from under him. 'Run back to the gap –'

'Dad, in case you haven't noticed, we're outnumbered five to one. I wouldn't even make it halfway there,' Greg puffed.

But after the first word, Alex didn't hear anything else Greg said. 'W-what did you call me?'

'Um ... "dad"?' suddenly, Greg looked rather anxious. 'Unless you're not fine with it! I mean, I'll call you "Alex", if that's better –'

'No.' Despite the situation, Alex found himself tearing up. 'No I ...' He never got to finish that sentence, because at that moment he had to tackle his son to the ground so that he didn't get his head bashed in.

The fight, which had never been in their favour, quickly turned nasty. Three agents had Sandy cornered, with Terry forced to drop his weapon or risk seeing his wife be shot. Alex and Greg were struggling to stay afloat, disarming as many AIS agents as they could. And sometime in the fight, they'd been separated from Dessi, who had been pushed back until she was well and truly out of their reach.

'Dad – look!' Greg was suddenly pulling at his wrist.

Alex turned to see Dessi scaling up the side of the building, heading straight for what appeared to be an air duct. He wasn't the only one who'd noticed her escape; even as his mouth fell open, several agents had begun aiming at her, clearly intending to shoot her down. Alex caught Greg's eyes – bright blue, like crystals, glistening under the sun – and a moment of understanding passed between them. And suddenly, they both moved, headed straight for the agents aiming their weapons at Dessi.

Determined, Alex struck out as hard and fast as he could. This was the one thing he could do to buy Dessi some time. Because ever since the flight over to Australia, he'd known that the last part of their journey would be one Dessi would have to take alone.

Up on the wall Dessi, had almost reached the open vent when the first well-aimed bullet hit. Alex let out a snarl of anger, lashing out at the agent who'd delivered the shot, but the damage had already been done; even as that agent collapsed on the ground, Dessi was hauling herself into the vent with one arm, the other hanging uselessly by her side, no doubt numb with pain. The bullet had passed through her shoulder – if she didn't patch it up, and soon...

But there was no time to think about that. Now that Dessi was out of sight, he and Greg were the sole targets for some very annoyed agents.

.

There was blood everywhere. Soaking her hands. Pouring down her arm. Pooling in her mouth. Though that last one was because she'd bitten through her tongue in an attempt not to scream at the pain.

Slowly, tediously, she managed to bandage her wound. It was a clean shot; the bullet had passed right through. And as she crawled along in the vents, the pain began to ebb away, masked by the familiar rush of adrenaline. She was so close, _so close_ ... she could feel it.

There was a wincingly loud clatter when she kicked the filter of the air vent out. She paused, heart pounding as she listened for any signs of ... well, _anyone_. But it appeared that none of the agents had heard. Maybe the idiots were still searching outside. Without another thought, she leaped into the room, catching herself on a shelf before she could introduce her face intimately to the floor. Looking around, she concluded that she'd managed to get into one of the many information rooms at the ISB – the problem was that she had no idea if it was the right one.

It was as she was about to leave that the label on one of the boxes on the shelf caught her eye.

_Jacob Wood. Deceased._

Frowning, she stepped forwards, reaching out to carefully pry the box away from its slot on the shelf. The lid of the box was extremely dusty; fourteen years worth of dust to be precise, though she won't have known it. Prying the lid away from the box required some effort. A dust cloud later, and for the first time she was looking into the contents of her partner's life, all collected and collated in this one spot.

On the very top was a hard drive. But it was pretty standard; Dessi vaguely remembered a hard drive in her own box, too. It was the things under that that was of more interest to her. Mainly because most of the time, the AIS wouldn't keep hard copies of such things.

The first thing that caught her eye was a picture, yellowed with age. In it were two very familiar looking people; it took a while before Dessi placed them as being Mr and Mrs Wood, Jake's parents. Goodness, they looked so _young_. The photo appeared to have been taken on their wedding day, but it was hard to tell; though Mrs Wood wore a white gown, there were only three other people in the room. Not exactly a huge celebration.

She turned the photograph over; on the back were two sets of captions. One, in a very loopy cursive, read: "_Our wedding"_. The other was in a much more stern writing: "_Agents Catherine Wood-Kramer and Sam Wood, copy of photo CSWW129"_.

Dessi froze.

'Agent?' she whispered, turning the photo over once more, and surveying the couple. '_Agent_? Jake's parents were _spies_?'

That was news to her. As far as she could remember, there had never been any mention of his parents being even remotely associated with their field of work. But, then again ... as far as she could remember, there had never been any mention of what either of the elder Woods did. And she definitely remembered them telling her that they had become religious to atone for sins they'd committed in their past.

Shaking her head, she replaced the photo, and began rifling even deeper into the box. The next thing that became of interest to her what appeared to be a report, filled out by an unfamiliar agent identifying their position as the "Recruitment Officer". It seemed to be Jake's contract; his signature was down the bottom, only it was unsure and overly exaggerated, as if it had been a very young and inexperienced boy that had signed the paper, rather than the one she had become so familiar with.

_...the eldest Wood child, Jacob Wood, has agreed to take up the position of Junior Agent, stepping in for his sister ... assigned to training slot B, and has over-exceeded expectations during the screening process ... first mission was chosen by Agent Wood, as per his stipulation ... will be sent to America on mission code ATD906479..._

She felt numb. It was like her entire body had suddenly become unresponsive. Dimly, she could hear a voice, a very familiar voice, whispering into her ear.

_I just wanted to see the snow._

She remembered the story. Maybe not well, not with her memory ... but she definitely remembered Jake volunteering in place of her sister, because he'd always wanted to see it snow, and he'd thought becoming a spy would allow him to.

'Oh Jake,' Dessi choked, setting the report back into the box. In doing so, another picture caught her eye.

Not sure how many more surprises she could take, Dessi gingerly extracted the photo from the contents of the box. It was a picture, again of Jake's parents. This one must've been taken a while after the wedding though, as both Mr and Mrs Wood looked much, much older. Mrs Wood held a bawling baby in her arms – _Jake_. Dessi smiled, shaking her head. There were two unfamiliar people standing by the Woods, beaming at the camera. The man had his arms wrapped around the woman, who was staring right out at Dessi with very familiar eyes.

Crystal blue eyes.

The box slipped from her nerveless hands as she clutched the photo so tightly it wrinkled. There was no mistaking those distinctive eyes. How many times had people commented on her own? How many times had Alex spoken about them, or Jake, or Terry ... or even Gibbs! Gibbs – he'd suspected, hadn't he? He'd warned her, he'd as good as told her about her own mother –

A sudden blinding pain cut off her thoughts. The photo fluttered to the ground as she clutched at her head. A thousand images flashed before her eyes, so quickly and yet, she could see them all so very clearly. Running through her orphanage, escaping her first foster home, being promised a family in the AIS...

_...Hey Des,_

_Bet this is the last thing you'd expect to find, eh? Really though, you need to start clearing out this table. I can hardly find a spot to write this..._

_I'm not sure if you know this, but my parents were spies. Yeah, I know – I was shocked too, when I found out. And even then ... well, I was trying to convince myself otherwise. But when I confronted my parents, they told me the truth. They were spies. Really good ones, too. But something happened, something they refuse to talk about. I guess it's the nature of our job, huh? You just keep going, pushing through the pain, destroying yourself piece by piece ... and then one day, you turn around and find yourself completely irreparable._

_The lucky ones get killed. I suppose if you're reading this, then I got lucky._

_Did you know your parents were spies too? Top agents – your dad was the leader of Unit one, and your mum was his partner. Maybe it's a family thing; I guess that's why I fell for you. _

_I know you grew up thinking your parents hated you. That they didn't care. And I didn't believe that. So I did a little digging, just to prove you wrong..._

.

'I think they're gone,' Greg whispered.

'Then that's our cue,' Alex said, getting to his feet.

After Dessi had managed to escape the fray, he and Greg had surrendered, and all four of them had been dragged bodily into the ISB. But instead of going up, as Alex had done that one time, they went through a side door that led to a basement lined with cells. The AIS referred to the place as "Isolation". To Alex, it was pretty much a prison.

'You sure this will work?' Sandy asked, worried.

Terry smiled. 'Don't worry. Me and Dean got ourselves locked in Isolation so many times, it might as well have been our second home.'

'Hopefully they haven't changed the lock,' Alex said.

'They won't – usually, actually prisoners are dealt with by ASIS or ASIO,' said Terry confidently. 'These cells are more of a temporary holding.'

'That's pretty stupid of them,' said Greg.

Alex laughed, and shook his head. 'Alright, here goes nothing.'

And so, with his arm stretched out and bent around at a most painful angle, and with Terry whispering instructions into his ear, Alex began to carefully pick the laser-sensitive lock with Sandy's earrings and Greg's shoelace.

There was a soft _click_, and suddenly, the door swung open. Their faces split into triumphant grins.

'Let's go,' Alex said, after returning the borrowed items.

They quickly set off. Just like Terry had previously said, the entrance to the Isolation cells was guarded by four agents from four different AIS Units (apparently an attempt to encourage group work within the agency). And just as they'd already agreed on, Terry and Greg rushed ahead to take the agents on, while Sandy hung back out of danger and Alex snuck right past.

He took the stairs three at a time, moving faster and faster. Because he had a sinking feeling that something was about to go wrong.

And his instincts hadn't ever lied to him before.

.

Caught within the throes of memory after memory forming anew, Dessi was pretty much lost to the world. Which was how the Director of the AIS managed to get so close, his every breath ruffled her hair.

'Desiree Swan. Now there's a name I never thought I'd be saying again.'

There was a shuddering gasp as that voice cut through her headache; with some effort, she withdrew herself from her own world and looked up. This time, she had no trouble placing the new but familiar face.

'Director.'

'Come, Miss Swan. Let's take a little walk.' And so saying, the Director wrapped an arm around Dessi's shoulders, and began leading her out of the room. 'So, I'm assuming from the look on your face that I've come too late for damage control?' he asked amiably, his tone so pleasant he may as well have been enquiring after her day.

Dessi only shook her head. 'I don't understand ... _why_?'

'"Why" ... ah, if only I could answer that,' the Director grinned.

The moment they stepped out of the information room, they were surrounded by eight AIS agents, all with their weapons drawn and pointed at Dessi, who recognised none of them. The Director stepped back away from her. For several long moments, the two stood there and stared at each other, not in hate or anger, but each with something akin to curiosity in both of their eyes.

'It was an international experiment,' the Director finally said. 'The choosing. And it was an experiment that your generation proved so successful ... well, it's now been implemented as one of the many laws of the MI6.'

Dessi recoiled slightly away from him, horrified. 'So, those boys they had ... they all –'

'No one ever said you were stupid, Swan,' the Director nodded.

'You're sick.'

'Maybe,' the Director said, an amused twinkle in his eyes.

Resisting the urge to vomit, Dessi hesitantly asked: 'And Michaelis Menten ...?'

'Went mad. I believe he accidentally injected himself with one of his experiments; either way, he became obsessed over the idea of finding the perfect spy. That was the reason he began so many spy-rings. Which we had to stop, before he could create an international network.'

'And now?'

'He's easy to manipulate, once you apply the right sort of pressure. The FBI stepped in – finally, if I may add – and he was like putty in their hands.'

Dessi's lips tightened grimly. 'He's dead, isn't he?'

'You know how it works. Don't need him anymore, do we? Unexpected bullet to the head. Honestly, I'm surprised Director Blunt still remembers how to use a gun,' the Director scoffed.

'You sick bastard.'

'So you've said,' the Director commented placidly.

'You can't just _control_ what people are – !'

'I believe I already did.' The Director's suddenly expression shut down, cold indifference seeping into every wrinkle. 'Take her away.'

The eight agents closed in. Dessi knew that none of them would hesitate to shoot if she put up any kind of struggle. At the same time, there was no way she would let herself willingly fall into the Director's control again. But before she could decide on what to do, they all heard the footsteps echoing down the hallway; fast and running, evenly spaced, neither gaining nor losing momentum. There was only one person Dessi knew who had that level of control over their body; unfortunately for her, the Director had reached the same conclusion.

A very unsettling smirk spread slowly across his face.

'Those Riders always seem to have the best timing,' he said conversationally. 'And after working so hard to find you, it would be a shame to deprive him of the chance to say goodbye. Don't you think?'

It took a moment for Dessi to process the precise meaning behind those words. It was a moment too long. Her eyes widened as the Director drew his gun.

She took a step back, a feeble attempt to escape, while her hands automatically rose in a useless gesture of surrender.

He languidly took aim, drawing out the process.

Their eyes locked.

And he pulled the trigger.

.

The moment Alex heard the gunshot, he knew something had gone wrong.

'Please, no,' he whispered, increasing his speed as much as he could. He all but skidded around the corner, in time to see several people disappear through a doorway at the other end. But that wasn't what he focussed on.

No, what drew his attention was Desiree, standing alone in the middle of the corridor, staring at him with wide, crystal blue eyes. Simultaneously, they both dropped their gazes downwards, to the steadying increasing patch of redness spreading across Dessi's stomach. A horrified expression came across her face as she raised a single shaking hand to the wound. Almost in slow motion, she began to fall, stumbling backwards in a pathetic attempt to stay upright.

Alex wasn't sure when he moved; he just knew that one moment he was at the end of the corridor, and the next he had skidded to his knees next to Dessi, who was slowly but surely losing control over her body, clutching weakly at the bloody wound.

'Dessi?'

A strange, whimpering sound escaped her as her head dropped heavily onto the ground. Blearily, she blinked up at Alex, squinting as she tried to focus.

'Dessi, don't you dare,' Alex whispered, pushing away her useless hands as he applied pressure, trying to stem the bleeding.

_There was too much..._

Dessi laughed, a gurgling, horrible laugh. 'I don't control this,' she said, her voice coming out harsh, much harsher than intended. 'Apparently, there's not a lot I control at all.'

'What do you mean?'

'Alex –' Dessi suddenly broke off with a loud, hacking cough. Neither of them mentioned the dribble of blood that began its journey down the corner of her mouth. 'It was us. And Rose. And the boys. _We're_ the secret.'

'What do you mean?'

'God we were so stupid.' She gave a derisive laugh. 'It was right there, right in front of us.'

'If I didn't know better, I'd say you're even crazier than you were before,' Alex grunted, shifting his weight so he could apply as much pressure as he could on the wound. And even then ... the blood was pooling out, drenching his fingers in that life-giving red. And Dessi was getting paler and paler by the second...

'My parents, Alex. They were spies.'

Alex frowned. 'You mean ...'

'Biological.' Her entire body shook violently with the force of her next cough, but she determinedly went on. 'They figured it out, the truth; they tried to run. That's why ... you remember what I told you about my birth?'

His mind pulled forward a memory, of a barren room, a foreign bed, a girl crying on his shoulder ...

_I never knew my biological parents ... I was abandoned as a baby on the emergency lane of the freeway ... my umbilical cord was still attached when I was found ... it looked like my mother had given birth to me on the freeway, wrapped me in a towel, then left me there and drove, drove off..._

'Yeah?' Alex whispered.

Dessi laughed again, feebly shaking her head. 'I was so ... _presumptuous _... so naive –' she broke off into another fit of hacking coughs. Alex did his best to prevent excessive movement, but he knew that time was running out. For both of them.

'Just keep talking, Des,' he whispered. _Just stay with me._

'They'd figured it out,' said Dessi, briefly closing her eyes. 'They'd figured it out, and they'd tried to run. Well, you can't run, not from this world – isn't that what we've learned the hard way, over and over?'

Alex smiled wryly, contemplating ripping his shirt apart to use as temporary bandages. But the wound ... it was much too severe. He didn't stand a chance, not on his own.

'Alex, they'd found a way –' Dessi coughed. And Alex's heart dropped when he heard the soft gurgling sound behind it. 'They didn't need Menten's research anymore. They'd found a way. They – Alex, my parents are spies. Jake's parents – they were spies, when they were young. And they did such horrible things – that's why they're so religious. They ... too much sin; they can't repent for any of it. Ziva David – her dad's the Director of Mossad. And even Rose – her biological parents. They're both spies.'

'My dad was a spy,' Alex whispered. 'But not my mum.'

'But your uncle. It's a family business, well and truly.'

Alex stared, horrified at the conclusion that was slowly being formed in his head. '...Ben?'

'He's an anomaly, I think. Bound to happen,' said Dessi, her voice growing weaker. 'It was us; we were the experiments. And we worked well – _too_ well.'

'But what about Cherub? That's an _entire_ organisation of kids.'

Dessi shook her head. 'You've never seen their missions, have you? Compared to some of the shit we've been through, theirs is like taking a nice stroll in the park.'

'That boy – the CIA boy spy who was killed –'

'Placebo. Not a single spy in his family history, not one,' Dessi laughed. Her laugh came out slightly maniacal, leaving Alex even more worried than he was. 'It's the genetics, Alex! It's all in the genes!'

'So they were right?'

Dessi nodded. 'They were right. Finally, they were right.'

If it weren't for the fact that his weight was the only thing keeping Dessi alive, Alex would've rocked back on his heels. As it was, he probably did pull slightly away from Dessi, his eyes focussed disbelievingly on some nonspecific point.

Finally, he whispered through numb lips: 'I don't believe this.'

And it was an almost impossible thing to process. Because it seemed unbelievable that the world's entire Intelligence force had banded together, had somehow managed to keep this whole experiment a secret. An experiment in which the world's best spies had been the offspring of spies themselves, allowing the "right" genes to be passed down. There was even the chance that the parents had been forced together ... and that thought was somehow even more horrible, because of what it implied. It seemed impossible that they'd done something like this – that they'd been _allowed_ to do something like this. And yet, they had; he was living proof.

'Kill the unwilling parents, conscript the orphan,' Alex said. 'But Jake –'

'His parents. You've never met them, but whatever happened in their past ... they broke,' said Dessi, her voice reduced to nothing but a gasp. 'They had a choice – Jake, or his sister. He volunteered. He always wanted to see the snow – Alex, promise me you'll keep Greg safe ... keep him safe –' And she broke off once more, hacking coughs that filled the corridor with the approaching sound of death, her body seizing up and convulsing.

'Of course I will.'

'Keep him out of this world. Please.'

Alex nodded. 'Dessi...'

But she shook her head. 'It's too late now.'

'I know.' And as much as he hated to say it, as horrible as it was to even _think _it, Alex did know. He had been in this world too long, been faced with the cruel reality of life far too often. 'Do you want ... I can make it faster, relieve you of the pain...'

'No. Save your bullets.'

Any normal person would be crying up a storm right now, Alex was sure of it. So why couldn't he?

He felt so numb, so useless. None of his limbs were obeying him; not that there was much to obey, since his brain had decided to start functioning at half its usual speed. It was a completely alien experience, being so out of control; it was definitely not something he enjoyed. Because ... how does one say goodbye to someone they love?

It was Dessi who did it for him.

'Alex I ...' she broke off, coughing. Eventually, she managed to draw in enough air to whisper: 'I just wanted to say that I never regretted it. Any of it.'

'Don't –'

Dessi coughed again, a wrecked, bloody cough. Weakly, her hand covered Alex's, who immediately took hold of it, as if his grip alone could keep her anchored to life.

'Please ... Dessi ...'

'Thank you, Alex. For everything.'

Her grasp loosened until her hand hung limply within his; no matter how tightly he squeezed, he never received a response. Slowly, her breathing evened out, her chest rising less and less with each inhalation. Her mouth moved, as if trying to form words; eventually she just gave up, and allowed her lips to upturn slightly into a tired smile. She blinked once, twice, clearly struggling to remain conscious. But eventually, her eyelids fluttered shut, and didn't open again.

And just like that, those crystal blue eyes were lost to the world forever.

.

_... *Authoress sprints for her life. Cue crickets chirping in the background*_


	17. Officially Nonexistent

**Chapter 17 – Officially Nonexistent **

.

Time had stopped.

The world had gone silent.

Even the air itself had stopped moving.

Or at least, it should've. Everything should've ended with Dessi's last breath. The sun should've exploded. Volcanoes everywhere should've erupted. The earth should've combusted. Life itself should've ended.

So why did it not?

Why was Alex still here, still breathing, still holding on to a limp hand that would never again return his grasp?

He felt so empty.

So cold.

So without purpose.

What was the point? What was the point to anything?

Why should he keep fighting, when all it did was cost him life, after life, after life?

_Keep him safe ... keep him out of this world ... please..._

Those words whispered like the soft voices of the wind, looping in his mind until he could hear nothing else. Slowly, the familiar rush of adrenaline began to rush through his veins, fuelled by the fury he felt at the injustice of the world.

_Keep him safe..._

He'd promised, hadn't he? He'd promised to keep Greg safe. He'd promised to keep his son – her son ... _their_ son out of the twisted world the two of them had been forced to grow up in.

A wave of emotions washed over him, pounding through the emptiness; memories of the past, hopes of the future, they all came thundering back. Dessi's hand slipped from his as Alex covered his eyes in a useless attempt to stem the flow. Laughter and gunshots and pain and happiness and so many other things that he had no time to remember, no time to feel. And from amidst the chaos came the steady beat of a heart next to his, forever.

_Keep him safe..._

His eyes were blank when he reopened them once more.

Unfeeling.

Cold.

The voices had stopped; now, there was nothing but the harsh sounds of his breaths filling his mind.

He picked up the gun lying innocently on the ground. It might have been his, it might have been Dessi's. It might even have belonged to an AIS agent. Right now, he couldn't bring himself to care. All that mattered was that the gun was fully loaded, and fully functional.

When Alex finally stood and surveyed the hallway, the eyes that locked onto the door which the AIS Director had disappeared through were the eyes of an assassin.

This was the world which had shaped and moulded Alex Rider into the killer he was.

And he was about to make them regret it.

.

Greg was the first one to round the corner. As a consequence, he was the first one to see Desiree Swan, lying in a pool of her own blood, in the middle of the now-empty hallway.

He screamed.

'Greg!' Terry yelled, clearly thinking he was in some kind of trouble.

'Sandy!' Greg beckoned desperately to the one medical person within their midst.

'What?' the woman was obviously startled by the shout, and quite puffed from having to keep up with the two. However, the moment she saw just who lay in the hallway, her steps faltered and she stopped and stared. It wasn't something Greg had time for.

'You have to do something! Quickly!' said Greg frantically, pulling Sandy along as fast as he could. 'Please, anything!'

She knelt down beside Dessi, reaching out to snag her wrist. Dead silence flooded the hallway for several tense seconds, before Sandy looked up again. 'The pulse ... it's so faint, I can barely feel it. I – I'm not sure there's anything I can do.'

Greg gulped. 'Sandy,' he whispered, 'That's ... that's my mum.'

He could feel someone – Terry, maybe, since Sandy was still kneeling beside Dessi – placing their hand on his shoulder in a pitiful attempt to comfort him. But it was nothing compared with his own thundering outpour of emotions.

This was his mum.

This was the first time he'd ever acknowledged such a thing. This was his _mum_, and she looked like she was dying, if not already ...

'No. No, I can't lose her. Not again,' he said, lips numb. 'Sandy, please –'

But the woman had already moved, quickly checking the limp body all over, even managing to briefly lift Dessi up to check her back, before setting her back down and bearing all her weight on the wound, which was still spitting out a never-ending trail of blood.

'We're going to need to go fast,' she said as she worked. 'She's alive, but barely. There's no exit wound, which means one less bleeding hole to deal with.

Terry dropped down next to her. 'What do you need me to do?'

'Find me a first aid kit. And blood – lots of it. Make sure it's "O negative" though; I don't have time to test her blood type.'

'I know what it is,' said Terry quietly. 'Don't worry, I won't be long.' He turned and sprinted back down the corridor.

'Greg,' said Sandy, beckoning the boy over. 'I need you to apply pressure to this wound. On three.'

They quickly changed positions, Greg pressing down on the obvious bullet wound in his mother's stomach to free up Sandy's now-bloodied hands. Quickly, and with the practiced precision that only experienced medical professionals possessed, she ripped the hem of her shirt into evenly spaced temporary bandages, and began to patch Dessi up. That was when Terry reappeared, a standard field first aid kit in one hand, and a box with the label "Transfusion" in the other.

'Now I see why our first aid kit at home is always so well stocked,' commented Sandy as she opened the kit, pulling out what looked like a long and thin scalpel, along with medical clamps. 'You honestly should've told me about this side of your life sooner – preferably before we got married. I assume you know how to apply sutures too?'

Despite the situation, Terry grinned, leaning in for a peck on the cheek. 'You always underestimate me, dear.'

Behind them, Greg mimed gagging. He was understandably ignored.

Sandy turned back to Dessi, waving Greg off and peeling back the bandages. Blood began to seep up once more, so astoundingly fast, so red, so _vivid_. Feeling rather sick, Greg had to look away. Sandy however, just dived straight in. She inserted, with startling and almost scary efficiency, the two medical tools, moved it around for a few seconds, and then pulled them both out. But now, there was also a bullet held tightly within the medical clamps.

'You are amazing,' said Terry in awe.

'Why thank you,' said Sandy, accepting the hooked needle which had already been threaded by Terry. Quickly, she got to work, closing up the gaping wound with eight stitches. Beside her, Terry began to assemble the transfusion equipment, its simplicity leaving Greg to believe that the kit had been intended for use out on the field. With practiced hands, the man connected the bag filled with donor blood that was marked with a big bold "A–".

'My mum has "A negative" blood type?' asked Greg, thrilled to learn something new.

'I hope she does,' replied Sandy before Terry could answer, 'or he's just killed her.'

'I've worked with her enough to know,' said Terry in an offended tone. 'Out of all of us, she probably had to have the most transfusions ... although ...' he trailed off, a contemplative look coming across his face, one that was tinged with a good deal of sadness and regret, while Sandy inserted the tube and allowed the transfusion to begin. The minutes crawled by in hushed silence; Sandy reached over and griped Greg's hand tightly, comfortingly, while Terry refused to take his eyes off his former teammate.

And so began the wait.

.

Apparently the doors led to some sort of control room. And apparently, when Alex threw the doors open and began firing away without a second thought, the Director of the AIS had been in the middle of a meeting via satellite communication.

Not that Alex cared.

The first thing he did upon barging into the room was to put a bullet right into the centre of the giant screen, held upright by chains affixed to the roof, where someone highly resembling an aged Director of the Mossad was cut off mid-speech as the screen shattered under the impact. The Director of the AIS spun in shock, but Alex was already moving.

The AIS agents standing idly around didn't stand a chance.

Two fell under Alex's merciless aim before anyone could even react. As a third drew his gun, he was subjected to a sharp blow to his nose, before Alex grabbed his gun and knocked him out. Armed now with twice the firepower, Alex skidded across the room on his knees, taking out two more agents, before flipping himself back onto his feet and aiming both guns at the Director, who threw himself out of the way just in time.

_Click_.

The gun in his right hand went dry.

Without even pausing, Alex spun and, with a flick of his wrist, sent the empty gun flying through the air, even as he darted off in the opposite direction. The gun slammed right into the side of an agent's head with an incredible force, rendering him instantly unconscious. For his part, Alex physically disarmed the agent who'd sprung out in front of him, before breaking his arm and using the momentum to throw the man halfway across the room, where the man collapsed with a whimper.

His wild dash around the room now brought him to the Director, who had nowhere left to run. With a smirk, Alex raised the gun, even as the Director raised his hands in surrender, even as the five remaining agents in the room raised their guns.

There was no hope in the Director's eyes though; they both knew that Alex could get off a shot before anyone else.

'Now, Agent Rider,' began the Director nervously, his hands shaking in the air.

'I haven't been Agent anything for quite some time,' Alex said mildly, cocking his gun. 'I think you already knew that.'

'Yes well ... that isn't to say you weren't a good one,' said the Director. 'Excellent, in fact. If I do recall, we are partially to thank for that.'

'Oh yes, you definitely are,' Alex said. 'Thank you, Director of the AIS, for teaching me the best way to kill you.'

.

Spies were always awake. Even when asleep, they retained an unusual level of consciousness that enabled them to be on the alert at all times. Of course, there were variations; it was part of the reason why newly inducted spies were allotted mentors, and why the world of spies seemed to be filled with either the best of the best, or the newbies unaware of the dangers of the world they'd just entered.

And so, even as her life was fading from her body, even as the energy needed to stay alive was being drained, Desiree was still aware of her surroundings, no matter how vague her comprehension. She knew there were several people crowded around her; she felt the sharp sting of the IV. While she wasn't aware that they were pumping blood into her, she did know that her body began to fill with life once more.

The moment she could, Dessi forced her eyes open. They, however, responded rather slowly, and only remained half-open, forcing Dessi to have to squint at her surroundings. The first thing she saw was –

'Alex?' she whispered. The figure looked rather startled, but before he could say anything, her eyes connected with crystal blue so like her own.

'Greg?' she corrected herself, tilting her head and trying to reach out for him. 'Greg.'

Greg smiled and took her hand. 'Hi ... hi mum.'

'Hi.' Dessi was sure that if she could, if she had the energy, she'd be beaming back at the boy. 'How ... how are you?'

'Mum, you're the one that just got shot.'

'Happens all the time,' Dessi laughed weakly, before breaking out into hacking coughs. Immediately, hands came down on her shoulders, pushing her against the ground.

'Take it easy,' came Terry's voice. 'We don't want a repeat of the Christchurch mission, do we?'

Greg looked up curiously. 'What's the Christchurch mission?'

At the same time, Dessi and Terry replied: 'Tell you later.'

'Where's Alex?' Dessi asked, her eyes flickering around, trying to spot the man. She did see Sandy, who was packing something up, but Alex was nowhere to be found.

Terry shook his head. 'I'm not sure. But know him, he's probably gone running after...'

'The Director,' Dessi finished. 'We have to go help him.'

'You're not in any condition to do any helping right now,' snapped Sandy, forcing Dessi down. Terry tapped his wife's shoulder, before holding up a shot of adrenaline. 'Are you serious?'

'Quite,' said Terry grimly. Without further ado, he jabbed the needle into Dessi's arm, who bit down on her own tongue to muffle her scream. The coppery tang of blood filled her mouth, but within the minute the pain had gone, and she could sit up again.

'How long will it last?'

'Not very,' admitted Terry. 'Not in your state.'

'But long enough?'

Terry met her eyes. 'Yes.'

'Good,' Dessi nodded.

'Wait!' Greg interrupted, scared blue eyes staring up at her. 'You're not ... you're not going to die, are you?'

'I'll try not to,' Dessi whispered, pulling him into a hug. 'I'll really try.'

'Greg, can you take Sandy and run? Hide?' Terry asked, when they broke apart. 'We're going to go find your dad, so you'll be the only person that can keep her safe. Do you think you can do that for me?'

'I can,' said Greg, nodding determinedly.

'Wait – you can't just – not in your state – you're still bleeding internally!' shrieked Sandy, but Greg had already grabbed her hand and began to pull her back down the corridor. 'Terry Phillips! If you die, I will hunt you down!'

Terry laughed. 'My wife.'

.

What Alex hadn't been anticipating, was for one of the agents protecting the Director to throw himself at Alex in an almost Kamikaze-like move. Alex shot him, but in doing so he created the gap that allowed the Director to dive sideways to shelter.

The other four agents leapt for him at the same time, and Alex, upon finding out that his gun had run dry, quickly discarded the weapon by throwing it into one of the agent's face, breaking his nose in a spurt of blood. The man stumbled backwards, but the other three closed in with a vengeance, and Alex couldn't help but think that maybe this was it.

And then, the doors slammed open.

Everyone turned at the sudden noise to see Terry, who managed to get off three shots and take down the agent whose nose Alex had just broken. Then he quickly dived out of the way, only to reveal –

'Dessi,' Alex breathed, stunned.

Crystal blue eyes caught his from across the room as Desiree threw him a pained smile, her hand resting over her bandaged wound. The Director chose that moment to make a reappearance.

'Impossible!' he shouted. 'You should be dead by now!'

'Clearly, I am,' said Dessi; her voice had the slight edge that people doped up on adrenaline spoke with. 'Quite obviously I have become the living dead.'

'Really, Dessi? Is now really the time?' Alex said, rolling his eyes.

She flashed him a playful grin, before turning her attention to the Director once more. 'You know,' she began conversationally, 'you should really learn to properly run background checks on your prisoners. Just a lesson for the future – if you have one.' Suddenly, Terry tossed his gun towards her. Dessi caught it by the tips of her fingers, before turning it up and pulling the trigger.

Five shots went off in quick succession, causing everyone to duck.

When the gunshots had faded into the distance, Alex slowly straightened once more, glancing behind him to check the damage. But it seemed like Dessi had hit ... well, absolutely nothing. The Director certainly thought so, for he emerged from where he'd thrown himself with a laugh.

'Well,' he said, brushing himself off. 'Your aim appears to be slightly off today, my dear.'

Dessi just smirked. 'I wasn't aiming for you.'

At that moment, there was a horrible groaning sound, followed by sharp snapping noises following each other in quick succession. The Director's gaze flew right up, just in time to see both chains holding the giant communication screen snap. The screen went plummeting down, headed right towards him. The Director of the AIS barely had time to scream before he was crushed and buried. Quickly, using the distraction, Alex turned and struck out, knocking the two closest agents out cold. Dessi brought the last one down, before handing the gun back to Terry. Turning, laughing, Alex all but skipped over to them, his heart pounding madly in his chest as he held his arms out, anticipating a hug.

What he got instead, and what he should've been expecting, was for Dessi to suddenly collapse on them. Somehow, Alex managed to grab her arm, keeping her upright long enough for him to be able to support her and slowly lower her to the ground.

'Are you alright?' he asked frantically.

'I just took a bullet to the stomach; do you think I'm alright?'

Despite the situation, Alex couldn't help the laugh the leapt out of his mouth. And once he'd started, it was hard to stop again. For a moment, it was just the two of them. Time had stopped, flecks of dust froze in the air. It was calm, peaceful, almost like a flashback to happier times. Unfortunately such moments never lasted.

Not in their world.

.

With the gunshots of a fierce battle starting up behind them, Greg and Sandy raced away, down the stairs, quickly heading towards the front doors. When they threw themselves out into the bright sunlight though, Greg almost immediately dragged Sandy back in.

'Oh my God,' Sandy breathed, eyes wide and horrified.

Agents were closing in on the building, looking ready for war. The two had only just managed to get themselves back in without notice. Greg quickly hit the lockdown button, sealing the front doors shut. It wouldn't locked forever; one of those agents would no doubt have an override code.

But it just might buy them enough time.

'Come on,' he said, reaching out for Sandy's hand. The two raced back up the stairs, retracing their steps. With battles in both directions, it would be much smarter to get back to the main group where there were experienced fighters, rather than to try stick it out alone.

'Wait – Greg!' said Sandy, pulling up short.

'What?'

'Look!'

Greg looked, and his eyes widened. In his hurry, he hadn't seen the lockdown doors spaced along each corridor. And each of those doors had some might-looking locks on them.

'If we lock them all...' he began.

'We might keep them out!' Sandy finished brightly.

_Or at the very least, give mum and dad enough time to get us out_, Greg thought, and the two quickly set to work.

.

With a horrible groan, and an explosion that rocked the entire building, the roof to the control room collapsed, the familiar sounds of a helicopter blasting through the room. Dessi shrieked in pain as Alex and Terry dragged her unceremoniously away towards shelter.

'Sorry!' Alex shouted above the noise. But he had no choice; it was either splitting her stitches, or letting her be crushed by the hail of cement and plaster.

'It's alright,' she panted. 'Just – warn me or something.'

'Yeah, sure,' muttered Terry, reloading his gun. 'When the next roof freaking collapses on us.'

'What are you doing?' Alex asked. 'We need to get out!'

'Rider. Don't know if you've noticed the AIS-issue helicopter? No? Then prepare to get boarded.' And so saying, Terry stood up from where they were crouched behind a particularly large pile of debris, before letting loose an entire clip. Highly bewildered, Alex poked his head out to see what Terry was aiming at.

It was only then that he saw the agents jumping out of the helicopter and into the room. Terry's shots took out two or three, but that still left another four who got to the ground in safety. And when Alex joined in the gun battle, the helicopter itself landed in destroyed control room, unloading another six agents ready for battle.

'Ah, crap!' Alex swore, getting off three shots before having to duck for cover. 'Are all Australians this bloodthirsty?'

'_We're Australian_!' Dessi and Terry shouted at the same time.

'Point proven!'

The battle with their weapons alone could only last for so long. And despite their efforts to keep the AIS agents at bay, they were very steadily closing in on them. Indeed, at that moment, one of the agents leaped over their barricade and lunged right for Dessi, who somehow managed to roll out of the way, as Alex took the agent down. But now, Dessi was out of the way of safety, right in the line of fire.

'STOP!'

The gunfire ceased immediately. Alex took the chance to grab Dessi and pull her back in, almost slipping and falling when the entire building shuddered once more. Peeking over to see who'd stopped the fight, his eyebrows rose in shock.

It was Matthew Lake, who was staring at the injured Dessi like he'd never seen a bullet wound before.

'Lake, are you nuts? Why d'you call it off?' one of the agents shouted at him.

'Because I'm leading this charge, and what I say goes!' he snapped back. 'Retreat! Now!'

'We're not retreating!'

And before Alex had a chance to wrap his head around the turn of events, the other agents opened fire once more. Only this time, they aimed for Matthew, who seemed to expect such a move, for he quickly dropped and rolled, taking one of the agents out and grabbing his gun before somehow managing to dart around behind their shelter. Terry quickly reached out a helping hand.

'What are you doing, Lake?' Alex hissed.

'D-Dessi,' Matthew panted. 'Is-is she alright?'

'I'm perfectly dandy,' said Dessi through gritted teeth.

Matthew smiled at her for a second, his eyes briefly softening, before he turned to Alex and held out the gun he'd just stolen. 'Here. You might need it; I don't know how many clips you have left.'

'Why are you doing this?' Alex asked. 'How do we know we can trust you?'

'I suppose you don't.'

But Alex caught him stealing another glance at Dessi, and he thought maybe he understood. After all, wasn't love supposed to be the strongest bond of all? Wasn't that the reason why he'd gone through so much to find Greg, and then put himself into even deeper hell to keep him safe?

'A little help here would be nice!' Terry shouted. Matthew turned and joined in the battle, letting bullets loose like wildfire, while Alex contemplated the back of his head. The entire building shook with an unnatural force, on the verge of collapse. Finally, Alex let out a breath through his nose, and stepped up beside Matthew, giving him a slight nod.

At that moment, the bullet-ridden doors to the non-existent control room burst open once more, revealing Greg and Sandy who immediately ducked their way over to the main group. Alex and Terry turned on them at once.

'WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?' they both roared.

'The place is surrounded; we couldn't get out!' Greg said. 'We locked as many doors as we could, but I don't know how long we have before this whole place is swarming with them.'

'What do we do now?' Dessi asked from her place on the ground, voice laced with pain.

'Well first off, we need to get more adrenaline into you,' Alex said, reaching down to grasp her hand.

'Here,' said Sandy, pushing past Alex and pulling out the first aid kit she had kept with her.

Matthew spoke up. 'I think I might know how to get us out.' Quickly, he explained his plan, which was very reckless and rough and would turn out to be disastrous should something go wrong. But it was the best plan they had right then.

'Okay, let's do this,' Alex said.

Without a further thought, both he and Terry threw themselves out from behind their shelter, guns up and blazing. They both ran, faster than they've ever ran in their entire lives, as bullets pinged after them, landing where their feet had been only moments before.

'Doesn't this remind you of the good old days?' Terry shouted to him. And Alex had to laugh; he too had compared that moment to the ridiculous "Bullet Runs" that he'd once been forced to do.

Meanwhile, Matthew was quickly shepherding Sandy and Greg in the opposite direction, carrying Dessi in his arms. They snuck around the perimeter of the room, staying in the shadows best as they could until they reached the unguarded helicopter. Handing Dessi over to Sandy, Matthew quickly climbed in and disposed of the pilot, before helping the others on.

'They're not going to make it,' said Sandy, looking out to where Alex and Terry had been pinned by bullet-fire.

Matthew set his lips in a line. 'Alright. Greg – you know how to fly this thing?'

'Vaguely.'

'Vaguely is good enough for me.' And with that, Matthew jumped back out of the helicopter.

Alex looked up when a burst of gunfire not coming from him or Terry interrupted their battle, in time to see Matthew hurriedly sliding behind what used to be a cabinet to avoid the return fire from the agents.

That brief distraction was all he needed.

With Alex peeling one way, and Terry sprinting the other, the AIS agents had no way to keep them pinned and vulnerable. The two quickly darted towards the helicopter, even as Matthew emerged to provide some very helpful cover fire.

It became very apparent, when Sandy helped the two men up into the helicopter, that the AIS agents no longer cared about letting them get away. Instead, all their fire power were aimed towards Matthew. They all seemed determined to finish him off for turning against the AIS, for committing treason.

Alex reached out a hand, and quickly pulled the other man into the safety of the helicopter.

'Thanks,' Matthew smiled, ducking the final bullets aimed for his head, as Greg pulled the control stick up and somehow got the helicopter flying into the open air.

'You would've done the same for me,' Alex said. 'Actually, you did.'

'Truce?'

'Truce.'

'Glad you two are finally over your little feud,' commented Dessi from where she was sitting up, the adrenaline having finally kicked in. Alex just laughed.

Behind them, the Intelligence Surveillance Building, the core of the AIS, shuddered once more, before finally collapsing on itself in a cloud of dust and debris. From the looks on their faces, neither Dessi nor Matthew have any sympathy for the agents who will be trapped in the building, dead or alive. Terry just shook his head, even as Matthew relieved Greg of driving the helicopter, much to the boy's relief.

'It's too bad the AIS is officially nonexistent,' said Terry, shaking his head mockingly. 'Because now, no one is under any obligation to rescue any of them, considering that they don't actually exist.'

And that caused him, Dessi and Matthew to dissolve into laughter, finally free from the iron control of the AIS.

As they flew further away though, the mood on the helicopter changed significantly.

With the death of the Director and the destruction of what was basically the foundational building of the agency, the Australian Intelligence Service's reign had officially been ended. With the collapse of the AIS, and the revelation of the Secret, the rest espionage world would be left in crumbles after those two very major hits. And that meant only one thing:

That this would be the perfect time to strike back, and to strike hard.

And maybe, just maybe, with a little bit of luck, they might be able to topple the iron hold the espionage world had over their lives.

.

_It's almost over! I looked at my plan and realised – this entire series is almost over! CRIES! Alright, I'm fine, it's all good..._

_**Please REIVEW!**_

_Love Chariots 99_


	18. Closing In

_So sorry for the lack of updates! Life interrupts in the rudest possible ways, but I'm back now :) _

_Enjoy!_

**Chapter 18 – Closing In**

The helicopter flew through the air, on its way to meet up with the "master plane" (or the plane being flown by Eagle and his crew). Aboard, Sandy was doing her best to prevent Dessi from dying, Greg was being given a flying lesson from Matthew, who was still controlling the helicopter, while Alex and Terry rested somewhere near the back. 'She'll be fine,' said Terry, after Alex's attention drifted off to Dessi once more. 'Seriously, even if she wasn't a fighter, Sandy's one of the best doctors that I know.'

'Yeah…' Alex sighed, shaking his head. 'I still can't believe you married her.'

That caused Terry to let out a snort. 'I still can't believe you had sex with Dessi.'

Alex laughed. 'Touché. So … what do we do now?'

'Fight their stupid war. Win. Then, I don't know,' said Terry. 'You've got a kid to raise, so that would be your next mission.'

'Yeah … it's the fighting a war part that I'm not too thrilled about –'

And then, before he could say anything else, Alex was interrupted in the worst possible way. By a bout of gunfire that caused every inch of the helicopter to shudder with the impact. Immediately, Alex and Terry were on their feet, weapons drawn and off safety before the others could so much as blink. They almost lost their balance when another round of bullets pinged off the exterior of the helicopter. Looking out the window, Alex saw a sleek helicopter and a small plane, both with the insignia of the AIS, following them, their guns trained on his helicopter, firing at will.

'Lake! Some evasion tactics would be good right about now!' Terry shouted as he righted himself.

'I'm trying!' said Matthew through gritted teeth, fighting against the control. 'They've jammed my system. Greg, see those controls? Keep flicking them until something happens!'

Alex fought his way towards the door of the helicopter as it swayed back and forth, while Terry helped Sandy drag Dessi behind the cockpit with a firm order for the both of them to stay down so that they would not be shot.

'I'm opening it!' Alex shouted over the frantic beeping coming from the cockpit.

The moment the door was opened, Terry and himself started firing back. Of course, hand-held weapons were pretty much useless when compared to the powerful guns mounted upon the AIS plane. However, the AIS helicopter was a different story; it too had its door open, and an agent was firing a sniper from within. That agent was also directly in Alex's line of fire. And it had been years since Alex had missed a shot; even on an unstable helicopter, getting thrown around every second, he wasn't about to break that record. His finger curled around the trigger of his gun, before he fired the bullet with his infamous deadly precision.

The bullet flew through the air, through No-Man's land, headed straight towards the AIS helicopter. It was only slowed slightly by the fierce winds from the blade of the helicopter, before it sliced clean through the sniper's shoulder.

He yelled out in pain, dropping his weapon and staggering sideways into the cockpit, toppling over the back of the pilot's chair. The pilot, surprised, instinctively jerked his arm around to stop his comrade from falling; unfortunately, his sleeve got caught on the control stick, and brought the whole helicopter flying around. Straight into the line of fire from the AIS plane. Needless to say, the helicopter stood no chance.

'Nice shot!' said Terry, impressed, as the helicopter blew up in the air.

From the shadows, they heard Dessi's murmur of: 'Fireworks.'

Alex laughed wryly. 'She's lost it. What the heck did your wife give her?'

'Adrenaline? Maybe? I seriously have no clue.'

The brief moment of laughter was disturbed by the reminder that they had yet to deal with the AIS plane. Which was, by far, much more deadlier than the helicopter had ever been. On the bright side though, the destruction of the helicopter seemed to have also ended the jamming of their own controls, for almost as soon as the air was cleared of the explosion Matthew commenced flight evasion tactics.

'Grab onto something!' he shouted, as he steered the helicopter sharply to the left.

Neither Alex nor Terry had anything to grab onto, so they were subsequently thrown across the floor of the helicopter, sliding towards the other side as their hands grappled uselessly against the smooth floor for some leverage.

'I did warn you!'

'Yeah, great warning, Lake,' Alex snarked, climbing painfully to his feet.

Terry just remained on the ground. 'I'm getting too old for this,' he groaned.

'Are you okay?' Sandy asked worriedly.

'Yeah, don't worry. I'm a trooper.'

'And a drama queen,' Dessi added with a cheerful smile.

Greg stumbled to Alex's side, grabbing onto his hands even as Alex wrapped an arm around his son. 'Dad … is mum alright?'

That same thrill went through him once more when Greg referred to him as "dad". 'Uh, yeah … I think. She's probably just on painkillers or something.'

'Okay…' there was a note of doubt in Greg's voice, something that Alex couldn't help but laugh at.

The AIS plane unleased yet another hail of bullets, and Matthew only barely managed to pull them out of harm's way. 'I'm not going to be able to keep this up for long! Someone better come up with a plan, and quick!'

At that moment, their radio crackled to life. '_I'm assuming from the rapid dodging, that you are not actually an AIS filled helicopter, or that you have one Alex Rider on board._'

Alex looked up with relief. 'Eagle! Don't worry, Lake; he's on our side!'

'_And I have a much bigger plane than whoever is shooting at you. Is everyone accounted for? No one we know on the AIS plane?_'

'No. None that we recognise, anyway.' Terry was the one who'd answered.

'_Alrighty then. I suggest you all grab onto something. Or someone._'

'What – why? Eagle, what are you planning –?' That was as far as Alex got.

The next second, the massive SAS issue plane pulled up from out of nowhere. It completely dwarfed the AIS plane, and made their own escape helicopter look like an ant about to be squashed by a boot. The AIS plane almost immediately dismissed their helicopter in favour of turning all its powerful, inbuilt weapons on the SAS plane. It would be in vain. For the SAS plane used that moment to release a single missile that was quite small compared to the plane, but which blew the AIS plane into smithereens without breaking sweat. The subsequent explosion rocked their poor, battered little helicopter, and threw everyone on board around like ragdolls.

Over the radio, they heard Eagle's exhilarated whoop. '_This is the most fun I've had in years!_'

'I'm really worried,' said Alex, lying on the floor of the helicopter and not bothering to move at all. 'Is anyone else worried? Because I am.'

'Yeah,' Terry agreed, raising his hand into the air. 'I think everyone's questioning the decision to make you Air Force Captain, Eagle.'

'_If I wasn't, you would all have been blown into smithereens._'

'Suddenly, I'm wishing I chose teaching over medicine as my career,' Sandy said.

.

They were well on their way back to England, the SAS plane having swallowed up their little helicopter in almost the same way it did with the car they'd escaped England with in the first place. At the current moment in time, they were gathered in the cargo hold, discussing their next plan of attack. Well, discussing was probably not the right word to be used in this situation…

'Are you _mad?_' Terry shouted.

'Hey, this was your idea!' Alex snapped back.

'No, I never said anything about _breaking into MI6!_'

'Again,' said Dessi. She was still acting strange, her blue eyes much too wide and vacant; apparently, Sandy had given her a rather high dose of painkillers.

'You've broken into that place before?'

'Yeah, and rescued a bunch of kids being put through what we'd been put through,' Alex said. 'Fat lot of help that was; now those kids are back in that Bank. I'm not leaving them behind.'

Terry sighed, running a hand through his hair. But he relented.

And so it was that Eagle set course for the Bank. Whereas before, when it had just been him and Dessi, the two had used their speed and silence to their advantage, now they were going in with force. Eagle had fifteen men aboard his plane, all of whom had been turned against the espionage world due to previous experiences, or knowledge of loved-ones experience.

'So, say we take about eight men,' Alex said. 'Add that to the four of us … that should be plenty, yeah?'

Terry nodded. 'You sure you want to put your kid through this again?'

'No. Unfortunately though, he's right; he's the only one who's actually familiar with the newer layout of the Bank.'

Eagle was in the corner, briefing his eight chosen men while he armed himself to the teeth. It was a strange sight, seeing the man giving out orders and expecting to be obeyed; it gave Alex that familiar twinge when he realised once again that he'd missed out on so much. Dessi and Sandy were settling down in the medical room on the plane, being guarded by the remaining seven men who promised they would not let either woman out of their sights. Greg entered the cargo hold once more, apparently finished in his exploration of the plane.

'_Sir, we're approaching the Royal and General Bank. ETA of ten minutes_.'

'Alright then,' Eagle said, turning to everyone. 'Suit up.'

The Captain was very liberal with the handing out of weapons, and soon Alex found himself actually vetoing snipers and removing grenades from his son. 'I'm glad you're so eager, but don't bog yourself down with these.'

Parachutes were handed out, and everyone was buckled in. And now they sat, tense, their heart rates skyrocketing in anticipation, waiting in silence for the signal that would begin their rescue mission. The trap door on the floor of the cargo hold opened; that would be where they would jump out into the night and hopefully land on the roof of the Bank.

'_Three … two … one … you are clear._'

'Go, go, _go_!' Eagle shouted. And in the most orderly fashion, his men lined up before taking a short run and one-by-one jumping out of the plane. Greg was next, followed by Alex, Terry, and finally Eagle himself.

The night air rushed past his ears as Alex jumped. Almost immediately, his heat rate levelled out; his body, conditioned almost since birth, was once again falling into the familiar routine of a mission. Just below him, he could see Greg – then suddenly, he couldn't, as the parachute blossomed into view. The next second, his own parachute was activated, and there was a sharp jerk on his shoulders as his free-fall was suddenly halted.

The eight SAS men had already landed on the roof; two of them turned to catch Greg, receiving a thankful smile from Alex in return. After Terry and Eagle joined them safely on the roof, and after their parachutes were all shed, they turned their sights down the sides of the Bank. The soldiers were already moving, pulling out devices with a flat plate attached to a spool of cable which was wound up tightly inside the body of the weapon.

'What –?'

'Maghooks,' Alex answered his son. 'Just watch; it's pretty cool.'

Eagle turned with a grin. '"_Pretty_"? These things are awesome. Fire away, boys!'

As one, the eight soldiers aimed the Maghooks down towards the metal sheets coating the edge of the roof of the Bank before pulling the trigger. The flat plates flew out and attached to the metal plates with a definite _clank_, and Alex noticed Greg's eyebrows rise in understanding.

'Magnetic?' he asked, and Alex nodded, ruffling the boy's hair.

'Magnetic grappling hooks,' Eagle laughed, like he was having the time of his life. Beside him, Terry just rolled his eyes at the hyperactive man. 'Let's roll!'

While Eagle, Terry and Alex attached their own Maghooks to the roof, the other eight soldiers began to ...well, abseil would a pretty accurate description. Alex waited for a second, dropping his knees and helping Greg onto his back, before he too began to scale down the side of the Bank, going slower than the others to ensure Greg would not fall. Speaking of which, his son was muttering something continuously under his breath, his hands clenched tightly around Alex's neck; taking a moment to lean back, Alex tried to make out what his son was saying over the wind.

'..._ breaking into MI6 headquarters via magnetic grappling hook ... Pat is _so_ not going to believe this when we rescue him ...'_

When he heard though, he couldn't help but let out a short laugh. That was when his earpiece crackled into life, and Eagle's voice sounded over the comms.

'_Hurry up Rider, we haven't got all day!'_

Alex looked down to see Eagle and Terry already on level with the other soldiers. A familiar playfulness was rising up to the challenge; Alex twisted slightly from his position, whispering a quick: 'Hold on' to Greg and waiting for his son's grip to tighten, before he released the safety on the Maghook, the one that was keeping the spool of cable in place. At once, the cable was let loose, and they began to free-fall, rapidly, rather like when they'd jumped from the plane not moments before.

To his surprise, and pride, the most noise his son made at the sudden plunge was a soft gasp beside his ear. Just when it looked like the two would shoot past the soldiers and slam into the ground, Alex re-engaged the safety. They came to a jarring stop, the suddenness almost dislocating Alex's arms, but it was well worth it to hear Greg's giggles and to meet Eagle's rolling eyes.

'You were saying?' Alex smirked.

'Whatever.'

Alex was sure that had it been any other situation, Eagle would've stuck his tongue out too.

Carefully, three of the windows pried away. Alex swung in fist, kicking off the wall and using the momentum to go shooting through the window. He slid in, careful to land on his side so that he wouldn't crush Greg, who quickly got off him. The others followed. The Maghooks they left behind, still attached to the roof.

'Alright. Let's go.'

Greg led the way from there, directing them expertly through the halls of the Bank. Apparently, new procedures meant that all prisoners had to be either transferred to another location, or had to be released after a certain period of time. However, after one of Eagle's soldiers had hacked into the MI6 mainframe, they'd learned that Ben, Rose and the others were being held near where Greg and the other spy children used to sleep.

'We're almost there,' whispered Greg as they rounded yet another corner.

'Why do I get a really bad feeling from the emptiness?' Terry growled, glancing about him uneasily.

Alex would've rolled his eyes, would've made some remark about how AIS agents were all so paranoid ... but he was having that same sense of foreboding. No break-in was ever this smooth; no break-in into a supposedly secure, intelligence agency headquarters should be going this smooth. 'Leave some guards?'

Eagle nodded. 'Terry, Max, Emanuel; stay here and guard. If anyone comes, a distraction will be great.'

Terry and the two named soldiers nodded. The others carried on, now three members short. And with each corner they rounded, they lost additional men as more and more of them were left on guard, until they reached the home stretch with only Eagle, Greg, a soldier named Bruce, and himself.

There were seven doors in this final corridor; as they ran past, Greg paused to knock a rather strangely rhythmic knock on each, before moving on. At the sixth door though, after his knock, there was an answering series of knocks that had Greg breaking out into a wide grin.

'It's this one!' he said.

'Alright,' said Eagle. 'Rider? Still remember how to pick locks?'

Alex smirked, stepping forwards and unsheathing a small knife.

'Dad ... it's an electronic lock.'

'I know.' Laughing slightly at Greg's expression, Alex carefully pried the plastic shell of the lock away from the wall, hearing it crack satisfyingly under the pressure of his knife. He was presented with an underlying bunch of wires. His eyes traced each, carefully calculating, calibrating, understanding. Quick as a flash, his knife shot forwards once more, snagging one of the delicate wires and effortlessly snapping it.

Standing, Alex applied a gentle pressure to the door. It opened without a fight, and he turned triumphant to face his shocked son.

'Wow,' breathed Greg.

That was when Ben appeared in the doorway, looking far too tired and worn, but thankfully not appearing to have been tortured. 'Well well, took you guys long enough.'

'Fox!' Eagle exclaimed happily, barging past to tackle Ben into a hug. 'Haven't seen you in _ages_!'

'I know,' said Ben. 'I've missed your ugly mug.'

He received a whack in the shoulder for that comment, though the grin never once wavered from Eagle's face. Greg too, was engaged with greetings, already happily regurgitating the events of the past few days to Pat, James and Cameron.

Before Alex had time to join into either conversation, he was suddenly knocked sideways. Staggering, he only barely managed to regain his balance. 'Hello Tom.'

'Alex! You came! You've rescued me!'

And Alex found himself the recipient of one very wet, very unwanted, slobbering kiss to the cheek. 'Urgh! Tom, get off!'

Laughing, Tom allowed himself to be shoved away. 'Seriously though, it's good to see you in one piece.'

'You too. Glad being locked with spies hasn't turned you crazy.'

Another familiar voice joined their conversation. 'It was a close call though.'

Alex looked around with a smile. 'Rose – Rose! You're walking!'

'I know,' beamed Rose. 'Apparently, being taken prisoner also means access to medics and the such. I still can't put too much weight on it, but at least I'll no longer be disabled in a fight, and forced to have a civilian guard me.'

'Hey, I did the best I could!' Tom protested.

'Of course, sweetie.'

Eagle cleared his throat then. 'Alright, let's play catch-up later. We gotta move before they come find us.'

And just like that, the happy atmosphere died.

Greg led the way back, joined this time by James, Cameron and Pat. Rose followed, guarded by the soldier Bruce, while Alex, Ben and Eagle walked with Tom at the rear. The additions to their group meant that they moved much slower than when they came in. Along the way, they also picked up the groups of soldiers they'd left behind on guard duty. With each new corridor, Alex felt his nerves mounting higher and higher, once again back in that frantic stage of paranoia. They were just about to meet up with the final team when their ear-pieces crackled into life.

'_We've got company!'_

The message was followed by multiple gunfire and shouts.

Immediately, they all drew their weapons, handing out the spares they'd brought just for the occasion; the only person not given a gun was Tom, who merely received instructions to run and hide should they be confronted. For once, the man didn't argue.

'Alright, slowly,' whispered Eagle, now springing forward with Ben to take the lead. They closed in hard and fast, Alex pushing Greg and the other boys back before they rounded the corner into a full-blown war.

'About time!' Terry shouted furiously from where he and the other two soldiers – Max and Emanuel – had been cornered. The soldiers and Eagle immediately jumped into action, each engaging in their own personal battle. 'Stop off for drive-through or something?'

After he'd gotten off three shots, Alex replied: 'Couldn't choose from the rather extensive menu – James, get _down_!'

The boy ducked, and a moment later a bullet whizzed over his head, so close that Alex could've sworn he saw it ruffle the boy's hair. Cameron immediately fired back at whoever had been aiming for his friend, Pat and Greg joining in. While they were doing that, Rose took out the three men who'd tried to take advantage of the boys' momentary lack of concentration.

From the corner of his eye, Alex saw one of the (obviously MI6) agents sneak towards where Tom had been forced to take shelter. Mouth set into a grim line, Alex sprinted forwards, tackling the agent away from his friend. Both their weapons went flying as they slammed into the ground. Quickly, Alex rolled off and back to his feet; though he had absolutely no doubt he would've been able to take the agent on, on the ground it would've only been a matter of time before the agent's superior weight overpowered Alex's still-starved frame.

The agent charged at him almost immediately, and rather predictably. Alex danced out of the way. The agent charged him again, and again he dodged. The agent charged once more, and Alex, with a roll of his eyes, stood his ground. When the agent was almost within impact-zone, he flipped down onto his hands and swung his legs up, colliding his knees straight into the side of the agent's neck and knocking the man down. There was a rather nasty crunch, and the agent didn't get up.

By the time Alex had retrieved his weapon, and the agent's just for the sake of it, the battle had already ended. Though they had a force of almost two dozen, it was still a much easier battle than any of them had been expecting.

'Let's leave. Quickly,' said Eagle, lips pursed. 'There's something strange going on, and I really don't like it.'

They got back to the window without meeting anyone else; by then, Alex's paranoia levels had well and truly skyrocketed. Ben, Rose and the others were each paired with a soldier, while Alex helped Greg back onto his back. Reaching out the broken window, he snagged onto his Maghook, before leaping out the window and hitting the "reel" button.

Immediately, the Maghook began to whirl, reeling in the cable, and sending Alex and Greg shooting up into the sky, towards the roof. Similar whirls echoed beneath him as the others made similar escapes. Ladders were already waiting for them, dangled out of the SAS plane that Eagle had called in moments ago. Quickly, they were all ushered aboard, before Eagle headed straight for the cockpit, ordering an immediate getaway, as fast as they could without getting on anyone's radar.

'I don't like it,' Terry said, once they'd unarmed themselves and gathered back in the cargo hold. 'That was too easy, even for MI6.'

'I know,' Alex said. They both eyed the friends they'd just rescued, unwilling to say what they were thinking out loud. _It was too much like a trap ... what if one of them had been bugged ... what if MI6 had meant for them to be rescued_.

Of course, that was when Sandy and Dessi entered the cargo hold, Dessi in a wheelchair being pushed by Sandy, a little military-issued tablet and mobile phone resting on her lap. And the drugs must have worn off for Dessi looked completely coherent now. And also, strangely triumphant.

'Enjoyed your easy escape?' she asked, grinning up at Alex, her crystal blue eyes sparkling.

'What did you do?'

'Who, me? Absolutely nothing.' That well-practiced look of innocence graced her face. 'No, the question you _should_ be asking is what our SAS friends did.'

Ben looked up from his seat. 'SAS?'

'Every single soldier under Wolf's command – which is all of them – have basically ... rebelled,' smirked Dessi. 'MI6 has their hands full, suddenly losing control of the army. I may or may not have occupied their attentions tonight by prodding at some of the data they have on MI6 – thought you guys deserved a break. By the way Rose, you might be interested to know that one of the soldiers on board could possibly give you a run for your money at all this hacking stuff.'

Rose raised an eyebrow. 'I highly doubt it.'

'_The entirety of Brecon Beacons has been shut down, and has become an impenetrable fortress from which the Sergeant is assuming command_.'

Everyone in the room jumped at the unexpected voice – well, everyone except for Desiree and Sandy. The voice seemed to be coming from the phone resting on Dessi's lap, a rather familiar voice that he was quite sure belonged to:

'Agent Gibbs?' Alex greeted, surprised.

'_Agent Rider_.'

'Not much of an agent now, am I?'

'_Wait, just wait!_' There was a shuffling sound, before a very familiar voice graced the lines. '_Alex?'_

Alex perked up almost immediately, the widest smile blooming, threatening to split his face in half. 'Jack? Jack! _Jack_!'

'_Alex! It's good to hear your voice again!_' Jack sounded so choked, like she was crying ... and Alex remembered with a pang that he'd not seen Jack since, well, since fourteen years ago when he'd left for America. '_I ...you ... it's been too long_.'

'It has.' And Alex himself was getting slightly teary. A small hand slipped into his, and Alex smiled down at his son. 'I promise, after everything is through, I will see you again.'

'_I know. Gibbs wants to talk again, and they want me to move to a safe-house right now or something, but I ... you ... I'll be here. Waiting. And Alex?_'

'Yeah?'

'_Don't forget to eat your greens. And drink more water. And change your underwear every –'_

'Okay, Jack! Thanks!' Alex said loudly, cutting off his former housekeeper, while desperately trying to ignore the sniggers that had just broken out around the cargo hold.

'_Sorry. I ... I keep forgetting how grown up you are. I ... promise I'll see you soon?_'

'I promise. Love you, Jack.'

'_I love you too. Keep safe, Alex.'_

'Yeah,' Alex murmured. 'Yeah.' That tone of voice Jack had just used brought him right back to when he was still a child, and she had no choice but to let him go off on mission after mission, without the ability to do anything but wait and pray. This time, Alex promised himself that it would be the last time he would worry Jack like this. He promised himself, _never again_.__

'_We're moving her to safety_.' Agent Gibbs was back. '_We're going to start the assault soon, and it would be best if she were out of the way. I'm afraid you won't be able to contact her until this all ends ... whatever the conclusion may be.'_

'Thanks Gibbs, I really – wait, "assault"?'

Dessi cocked her head, rolling in towards him and stopping just shy of running him over. 'Yes, assault. The AIS may be gone, but there're still some superpowers left. We're taking care of business on this end, but America is still up there.'

'_We've gathered quite an extensive team – don't worry, we'll take care of things over here_,' Gibbs added.

Smiling, Alex leaned towards Dessi. 'You're amazing.' He had every intention of kissing her then and there, but before he could several voices broke in.

'Get a room!' Ben shouted, while Tom led the soldiers into a round of wolf-whistles.

At the same time, Greg covered his eyes and groaned: '_DAD!_' The other three boys just laughed at him.

Alex pulled back, smiling, and Dessi giggled, making him think that maybe the drugs hadn't entirely worn off yet. It didn't matter though, for at that moment, Eagle's voice broke through via the onboard P.A. system.

'_We're closing in on Brecon Beacons, and already we've passed countless MI6 occupied vehicles. All personnel on board – yes, that includes you Harris – ready yourselves. Because it looks like we'll be landing in the middle of a war.'_

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_Once again sobbing because oh my God we're so close to the end and I DON'T WANT THIS TO END! WHAT WILL I HAVE TO LIVE FOR AFTER THIS? Alright, calm, cool, collected ..._

_Um, __**review**__? Pretty please?_

_Love Chariots99_


	19. Yesterday We Were Just Children

OH MY GODNESS YOU GUYS SO APPARENTLY THERE WAS SOMETHING CALLED THE "_ALEX RIDER FANFICTION AWARDS_" THAT I DIDN'T KNOW EXISTED BUT ANYWAY THEY HAD A CATEGORY FOR BEST ORIGINAL CHARACTER AND ANOTHER FOR BEST SERIES AND MISS **DESIREE SWAN** WON BEST OC AND **THIS SERIES **WON BEST SERIES

AWEIUJKFDSOPEWLMNFDJHIUERTJN KDSIOWEJLKMNJHUYIJKJHYTRFGHJ KLOIUY

BUT SERIOUSLY, THANK YOU TO THE ANONYMOUS REVIEWER **STACEY** FOR LETTING ME KNOW AND FOR CHUCKING ME THE LINK BECAUSE I WOULD ACTUALLY NOT HAVE BELIEVED YOU AND **THANK YOU TO EVERYONE** WHO HAS SUPPORTED ME SO FAR AND I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH JUST THANK YOU!

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Sorry about the length of this chapter. It sort of explains why this took so long.

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**Chapter Nineteen – Yesterday We Were Just Children**

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Brecon Beacons had been shut down from the outside world, completely closed off, barricaded with the force of an entire compound full of trained soldiers behind it. The place had been turned into an impenetrable fortress, one with defences MI6 and its allies would have terrible trouble overcoming.

The SAS plane which had carried Alex, Dessi and the others away from the danger and harm of the AIS out for blood now proceeded to land in the middle of Brecon Beacons, in the middle of the oncoming war. The irony was not lost on any of them.

Sergeant Wolf was waiting for them with a small unit of soldiers, grim-faced and deadly. Captain Eagle descended the ramp first, gripping arms with his long time friend and comrade. No words were exchanged between the two; no words were needed, not now. Not when the anticipation of blood and death hung so thickly in the air.

'Alex Rider,' said Wolf, as Alex finally stepped off the plane. Behind him, a heavily-protesting Dessi was quickly carted off to Medical, where Wolf had apparently been hoarding military-level supplies for years upon years just in case of such a shut-down. 'You're a hard man to track down. And even harder to kill.'

Alex tilted his head, not answering.

Finally, Wolf let out a huffed laugh. 'You are impossible.'

'Right back at you.'

'Alright, unload the troops,' said Wolf. 'Everyone to the mess hall – Shark is already debriefing.'

The soldiers who had been on the SAS plane with Eagle now proceeded to exit said plane in a very orderly and coordinated fashion, heading off to the mess hall while Greg, Pat, James and Cameron huddled up beside Alex. Ben was the next one down, bringing with him Terry, his lost-looking wife, one very apprehensive Matthew, and Rose.

'Wolf!'

'Fox,' the Sergeant nodded, before facing Terry. 'I remember you.'

'I remember you too,' grinned Terry. 'Those Bullet Runs were a bitch, huh? This is Sandy, my wife. She's a doctor. And this here's Matthew – ex-AIS agent. And that lovely lady is Rose.'

'We've met,' grinned Rose.

'Sergeant,' Matthew greeted, swallowing.

Ben hit Wolf on the arm. 'Stop scaring the kid!'

'I'm not doing anything!' said Wolf, affronted.

'It's your face,' Alex said wisely. 'It's horrifying to look at.' He had to move rather quickly to avoid decapitation, but it made his son laugh so he didn't really mind.

'Pup, welcome back.'

'Hi,' grinned Greg, saluting the Sergeant. He might have said something else – in fact, he'd already opened his mouth – but at that moment a sharp burst of gunfire cut off any and all conversation throughout the entire Brecon Beacon complex. Alex grabbed his son and Pat, and shoved them both to the ground; James and Cameron were sharp enough to drop down on their own. All around him, soldiers were drawing their weapons, or pulling their unarmed comrades to safety.

The gunfire lasted for several more seconds, before cutting off abruptly, leaving a heavy silence behind.

A soldier came sprinting up to them as Alex helped his son back to his feet. 'Sir – sir, they've just apprehended a small unit of scouts.'

There was no mistake to any of them exactly what "apprehended" meant in this circumstance.

'MI6?' Wolf asked.

'No sir. Their weapons were MI5 standard issues.'

'Oh goodie,' Eagle sighed. 'We've got the whole country after us. _Exactly_ what I wanted to do with my life.'

'We'd better get going. Soldier,' he added, looking to the man who'd just brought them the news, 'please take these four boys, and this lady – Sandy, was it? – to Medical. Then stay there and stand guard – I don't want any of the staff or patients injured during this.'

'I'll see you later,' Terry murmured when Sandy threw herself into his arms.

'Stay safe,' was the whispered reply, and Alex looked away to give the pair a little privacy before Sandy and the boys were rushed off to Medical, Greg accurately imitating his mother and protesting quite heavily. The accompanying soldier leading had drawn his weapon, and his eyes were peeled for danger.

The mess hall was packed with soldiers, the leaders of their units, according to Wolf; it was a reflection on the direness of the situation that not one of them made a sound. Shark stood at the very front, waving his hand over a map of Brecon Beacons that had been propped up on a stand. When the group walked in, there was a wave of motion as soldiers attempted to stand and salute the Sergeant, who waved his hand with a quick: 'At ease, soldiers.'

'Rider. And co.,' Shark greeted.

'How far have you gotten?' Wolf asked, looking over the map of Brecon Beacons with an experienced eye.

'Just finished. Dismissed,' he added to the mess hall in general. 'Take your stations. And good luck.'

Alex pressed himself against the wall as the group of soldiers jogged out of the hall. When they were all gone, the place suddenly felt so much bigger. And emptier.

Shark sagged into the nearest chair as the rest of them approached him. 'I can't believe we're actually doing this.'

'Trust me,' muttered Wolf darkly. 'Neither can I.'

'I can't believe you somehow managed to shut down this entire place against intruders,' said Terry with a low whistle added in for effect.

Wolf, Eagle and Shark just traded identical looks. Unbeknownst to MI6, when Wolf accepted the post of Sergeant all those years ago, he transformed Brecon Beacons right under their noses. While the Sergeant had first done it in the event that they needed to shut Brecon Beacons off because of some enemy of theirs remarkably coming back to life (or whatever strange happening popped up; Wolf had gotten too used to working with spies by that point), it was now being used against the very agency that had quite forcibly taken control of the entire SAS army three years after Alex's disappearance.

'We've had a lot of practice,' Wolf ended up saying.

'I'll bet.'

'So what's the debrief?' asked Matthew, clearly unused to the remarkably loose atmosphere so close to a war.

'There are over twenty units on Brecon Beacons; that's at least eighty soldiers willing to fight,' said Shark, with the tone of someone who has had to repeat the same thing for the thousandth time. 'Add in those under Eagle's command, and you lot … well, I'd say we have at least a decent chance of overpowering MI6's army. If that's what you even call a huge group of spies.'

'Army works for me,' Alex shrugged, leaning over the table to peer at the schematics. 'Since they're all out for our blood, I'm not going to waste too much time trying to categorise them. Are you sure there's no other possible way they can get into Brecon Beacons?'

'You doubt me, Rider? I think I know my own base.' said Wolf with a frown.

'Yeah, it's not you. It's MI6,' Alex said with a slight quirk of his lips. 'Do we have enough weapons for everyone?'

'Depends who you're talking about. We've hoarded enough to give the ground army a weapon each,' said Shark. 'But there aren't enough for the snipers to have a close-range weapon in case they have to enter the fray.'

'Then we'd best make sure they don't need one.'

Shark rolled his eyes, reaching over to grab the map off the stand and lay it down on the table in front of them. 'The plan is to put snipers on the vantage points here, here ... and here. The "bait" we put here, while the –'

'Hang on,' said Matthew, putting up his hand. '"Bait"? You're sending a bunch of soldiers to stand at the bottom of a pit? They're going to die!'

'It will be a few units of our best men, and there will be an ambush waiting,' said Shark patiently. 'Plus, snipers B and C will have full coverage of this area. We don't play with lives here; we don't send anyone to die for us without giving them a fighting chance.'

Chastised, Matthew nodded and backed down.

'Alright, as I was saying ... so the bait will be here, while the ambush teams line either side. Once they're in battle, the Coordinator will signal the snipers.;

'Uh ... "Coordinator"?' Rose asked.

'Our best strategist,' said Wolf. 'He'll be coordinating with the snipers and figuring out the best plan of attack when tides in the battle change.'

_When_, not _if_.

'So the Coordinator isn't you?'

'Not this time.'

'Anyway,' Shark coughed. 'Then backup one – who will be waiting here – will move in. Backup two will be signalled about ten minutes after, for an additional boost. Backup three will be called if things look bad. Backup four – who will be here – go in only when it seems like we're really losing.'

'Why so late?'

'Backup four,' said Shark a little grimly, 'will be those four kids.'

Alex shut his mouth with an audible click.

He knew, logically, that the boys would have had to fight, would have had to get involved in this whole mess. He just didn't want them to. They were still so young, so full of hope and naivety and all the things that Alex had long since lost ... maybe it was a parental instinct, or maybe he did still have something human left inside of him despite those long years of the dark world trying to whittle that away, to turn him into the perfect spy, the perfect killer, but he wanted the children to stay young. He wanted their eyes to remain large with innocence, to light up at the smallest things.

It was probably asking too much.

'You broke the news to them?' he said instead, quietly.

'Not yet,' said Shark, tentative. 'I will right after this.'

'Might as well do it now. I'll tell Dessi,' Alex said, resolute, standing from the table. 'Is there anything else?'

'No we'll ... we'll send a messenger your way if something comes up,' said Wolf, nodding at the door in dismissal.

Alex inclined his head, before he and Shark set off to Medical in silence.

Striding through Brecon Beacons on the brink of war was a novel experience. The best possible way to describe the scene would be to call it "organised chaos": there were soldiers running anywhere and everywhere in a fashion that would appear uncoordinated, yet upon more careful inspection it would've become pretty obvious that they each knew exactly where they were going, that they each had some pre-determined task to complete in order to protect Brecon Beacons from the invading force.

Wolf had trained his soldiers, and he had trained them well.

The four boys they found seated in the waiting room of Medical when Alex and Shark walked in. Immediately, they jumped to their feet, James and Cameron demanding to know what was going on while Greg and Pat nodded empathetically by their side.

'Ask Shark,' Alex said. 'Greg, do you know where your mother is?'

'Room right at the end,' his son replied, already turning to hear the debrief from Shark. Alex shook his head, hiding a slight smile.

The door to the room at the very end was closed. Alex knocked on it three times, sharply, and it swung open to reveal a gun pointed right at his head.

'Put the gun down, soldier!' came Dessi's voice from the bed, and the gun was slowly lowered.

'Sorry ma'am,' said the soldier who'd been assigned to protect Dessi, repentant.

'That's alright,' Alex said, clapping the man on the shoulder. 'Least I know you're doing your job right. Do you mind going outside and making sure the boys haven't overwhelmed Shark?'

'Yes sir,' the soldier said before he left. Alex shut the door, and turned to survey Dessi.

She lay on the bed, her lips turned down in a familiar sulk that almost caused Alex to let out a laugh. She looked well enough, her eyes bright, alert; whatever drugs Wolf had been hoarding, it had definitely done its job.

'Painkillers?' Alex asked, carefully perching himself on the foot of her bed.

'Something like that. I certainly don't feel pain. Or, you know, my body in general,' said Dessi with a shrug. 'Guess Wolf had access to some hospital grade stuff, huh?'

'Yeah.'

Dessi stared at him unblinkingly for almost a minute before she sighed softly. 'They want the boys to fight, don't they?'

Alex hesitated. 'Only as a last resort.'

'You don't need to try and break the news softly; I grew up in this system too, remember?'

'Very vaguely. Didn't you try to shoot me at some point?'

'Not me. Jake.' There was a faint flicker of a smile on her face. 'Seems like just yesterday, doesn't it?'

'For you more than me,' said Alex, inclining his head. 'I had to count the last twenty years from a prison cell; I remember every bit of it.'

'I have a gap,' admitted Dessi. 'Twenty years that I _know_ should have existed. Twenty years that's been compressed into the same time-frame as the last few minutes.' She sighed. 'For me, it literally feels like yesterday I was just a child. And today, my child is going to war.'

'_Our_ child,' Alex said, reaching to take Dessi's hand in his own, rubbing useless circles on the back of her hand. _Our child..._

She shuffled over on her bed so that she could lean her head against his shoulder. 'Yeah.'

They sat like that for a while, silent, their hands held, listening subconsciously for the familiar whistle of bullets, eyes alert for a hint of anything being out of place. Eventually, they heard Shark's footsteps coming towards them. Soft lips grazed Alex's cheek, and he turned just as Dessi extracted her hand from his, and slid herself out of the bed.

'Woah, what are you doing?' he demanded, leaping to his feet.

'There's a war, sweetheart,' she said.

'You're injured.'

'You will be too, by the end of this,' was her reply. 'Hospital-grade stuff, remember? I can't feel pain right now.'

'That makes it even worse. You'll get yourself killed,' Alex said flatly, crossing his arms.

Blue eyes met his. 'Then so be it.'

Shark chose that moment to enter the room. Alex was sure, from the hesitancy on his face, that he immediately registered the tenseness surrounding the pair, but to his credit he said little more to them than: 'It's starting.'

.

They divided the group up based on who worked best with whom. As a result, Alex, Rose and Ben were placed in Backup One – or, as they renamed it, the Ambush Team. After a long fight involving several verbal insults in a multitude of languages, Dessi consented to being one of the snipers on unit E, with Terry as her partner. It seemed almost fitting, in a way; the last two operational AIS agents of the original Unit One that Alex had first met fighting together one last time.

And that was something Alex knew for sure.

Come hell or high water, this would be their last fight.

Even as they stood in their allocated spots, awaiting the order to move out, Alex could feel his weathered body creaking in protest. There was a reason the spies who specialised in the deeper, harder, more brutal missions had a mandatory retirement age. And that was simply because their bodies would not be able to keep up forever.

Well, he hoped that his body would pull through for him this last time.

'Sniper,' said Eagle, handing a sniper case over to Dessi.

'Sniper,' she nodded, making Terry hold it.

'Gun,' said Eagle, giving that to Terry.

'Gun,' he counted off.

'Next,' said Eagle, and Dessi looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. He shrugged. 'We don't have enough weapons to give everyone a gun.'

Alex slid in before Dessi could form a retort. 'Here,' he said, holding out the three jagged knives he'd pilfered from some corner of Brecon Beacons. 'They might be a little old, but they're better than nothing.'

Dessi took one, assessed its weight in her hand, before flinging it at the nearest wall. It flew straight and true, causing her to laugh. 'These will do quite nicely, thank you.'

'I live to serve,' said Alex, grinning when Dessi pulled him down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Of course, at that moment, Greg turned the corner with his friends, spotted them, and let out an almighty groan.

'_Muuum!_'

The gathered soldiers laughed heartily, more so than the situation probably deserved. But it was the brink of war, and they did not have enough weapons to protect them all, and already they were looking around, memorising faces and names and one last story, and wondering who would be gone from their ranks at the end of this madness. So, for now, they laughed, and tried to forget it all even as Eagle distributed weapon after weapon, as Dessi strapped the knives to her body, as Greg and the other boys were put through their motions ...

Time seemed to jump, then, a strange staggered skip that seamlessly joined those last few minutes of laughter straight onto the moment they walked to their final positions, earpieces in and awaiting the order to throw their lives into the line of fire. The Bait Team were in position, giving their final checks over the earpiece; Alex's team, the Ambush Team, were lining up behind strategically planted bushes that had taken years to cultivate into the convenient barricades they were today. The Rescue Team (previously known as Backup Team 2, who changed their name to Rescue Team even though Eagle had been pushing for "Swagger-In-At-The-Last-Possible-Minute-And-Act-As-The-Hero" Team) were hidden well away in their various crevices, as was Backup Team 3 (who had no originality, apparently).

Alex took his place beside Rose and Ben, wondering where those last few precious seconds had gone, playing back Greg's laugh, and Dessi's eyes, and Jack's voice, and Tom's idiotic pranks, and Rose's mad hacking skills, and Ben's mentoring, and Wolf's bravery, and Eagle's stupidity –

'Alex?' Rose whispered from beside him.

'Yeah?'

'Everything alright? You look like you zoned out there.'

He gave her a tense smile. 'I'm fine.'

'Mm-hm.'

He squeezed her hand. 'Worry about yourself, 'kay?' He said those words a little louder, intending for Ben to hear too. The nod sent his way assured him that his message had been received.

'_All teams be alert; scouts have reported movement in outer zone_.'

It was rather stupid having only earpieces and no mic to relay the fact that they'd received a given order, but Wolf had only five mics in his extensive store of everything else (seriously, never trust a solder with espionage equipment). And so three were given to the three snipers, one to the Bait Team leader, and the last given to the Coordinator; they were deemed as the people most likely to need to relay information.

There was a soft click beside Alex as Ben readied his gun, eyes dark. Rose's fingers tightened visibly around her own weapon, shifting slightly on her feet to spare her just-healed leg. Alex just took a deep breath in, then out, briefly shutting his eyes. He considered a prayer; he considered bargaining his own life to save those of his friends and loved ones. But he'd never been a believer before, and he certainly wasn't about to start now.

There was a faint rustle amongst the previously silent leaves, and immediately he felt his entire being fill with adrenaline, his eyes darting around of their own accord, trying to spot something that would give him a heads-up, the result of years upon years of training and conditioning.

And perhaps genetics too, if this whole debacle was anything to go by.

Maybe that was why they saw it first, him and Rose: the very familiar, very faint, flashes of light reflecting off sniper scopes. They locked eyes, nodded once, and raised their weapons despite handguns having no ability to hit the snipers, considering how far out they were. No, they were planning on firing to attract attention, so that their own snipers could be clued in to take the shot before MI6 could get theirs in first.

They didn't even get to press the trigger; a breath later there was a bang from above, and a thud in the distance, the result of a body impacting with the ground after a long fall.

A rather dry voice came over the earpiece then. '_Snipers A and C, this is Sniper B; if you could join in shooting some enemy snipers with me, that would be much appreciated. Or just firing general shots across the forest would suffice too_.'

In his peripheries, Alex spotted Ben quickly slapping a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh. For his part, Alex just shook his head, even as he heard the additional shots as Snipers A and C jumped into action.

The next shot from the MI6 snipers, clearly a random shot in the dark intended to flush them out, flew so close past Alex's ear that he might've lost some cells from its flight. Rose grabbed his arm, the same moment that particular MI6 sniper received three bullets through the heart and one in the centre of their forehead. Ben grinned beside them.

_Never piss off the angered dead_, he mouthed.

_What does that even mean?_ Alex mouthed back, but all Ben did was shake his head and muffle his laugh.

Above them, the battle of the snipers waged on, the occasional swear being broadcasted over the comms (most of which seemed to come from Dessi). Yet, while that was going on, not even the blind could miss the army of spies gaining ground, bushes rustling as they slid past, closer, ever closer towards the fortress of Brecon Beacons. Slowly, the army came into view, emerging from the trees, faces set into deep scowls, and Alex felt each and every muscle in his body tense in anticipation, awaiting the voice in his ear that would tell him and his team to advance, to ambush.

_The tricky thing is _

_Yesterday we were just children_

_Playing soldiers, just pretending_

A rather famous law existed among society called Murphy's Law, which simply stated that: "anything that can go wrong will go wrong". It was a law they hadn't taken into account; rookie mistake, really, considering that all bar four of them were hardened veterans who were all too aware of the rules of this game.

It wasn't until they saw the army head not for the bait team, but for the outskirts of Brecon Beacons where four certain boys lay in hiding, that they realised their mistake.

'Dessi!' Alex shouted, all pretence at hiding gone as he twisted free of Rose's grip. 'Dessi!' _Cover me!_ He added in his head, and hoped that she knew him well enough to know what he wanted, without him having to shout out his intentions to the enemy.

To his relief, she replied in the affirmative. '_Got you. To your right, there should be a path, a shortcut. And Alex_,' here, her voice paused over the comms, even as Alex spun on his heel and crashed through the shortcut, blindly trusting Dessi's directions, '_Alex, please keep him – them safe._'

'I'll do my best,' Alex muttered under his breath, once again cursing Wolf for the fact that he had no way of sending outgoing communication. Which really wasn't fair on the Sergeant at all, but given the current situation Alex rather thought that he was allowed to be slightly unfair. Over the comms, he could hear the Coordinator give instructions for the Rescue Team (who were the closest to the boys) to join in; however, that still meant that Alex had a head start of several crucial seconds.

He soon caught up with the army that was making its way unknowingly towards the boys, no doubt thinking that the flanks of Brecon Beacon were the weakest points.

'_Boys_,' Dessi's voice came over the comms once more, '_stay down and let us handle this._' And even as she spoke, her voice absurdly calm, a bullet came whizzing past Alex to embed itself into the eye of the MI6 agent who'd spotted Alex and begun to aim his weapon at him.

That, of course, also had the intended action of drawing all the other MI6 agents' attentions towards him, and away from their approach to the flank. And while Alex was certainly grateful that the boys were no longer in intimate danger of being discovered, it also meant that he suddenly found himself face to face with an entire army, most of whom were armed with more than the measly handgun Alex possessed.

'_All yours, sweetheart._'

'Such a lovely, caring person,' Alex said as he launched himself forward even as the agents' surrounded him on all sides.

'_You realise I can see your lips through the sniper scope right?_'

That caused Alex to laugh, right before he smashed his fist into someone's face and felt bones shatter under him. The retaliation blow he was expecting from the man's partner never came, due to the convenient sniper bullet that appeared out of nowhere and disappeared through the man's heart.

Alex ducked the arm that swung up in his direction, dropping to the ground with one leg slid out to hook around the agent's ankles. He pulled the man down against his own gun and pulled the trigger, killing the man instantly and wounding a second who'd been standing too close, and who was subsequently hit when the bullet flew straight out of the first man. Alex didn't even blink, just kicked the dead weight off him as he rolled back onto his feet, grabbing the man's gun on his way up.

The thing about being caught in the centre of a ring made up of trained killers was that, while Alex may get tired or slip up or be unable to watch his own back, the people making up the ring were unable to use their weapons – or at least, not unless they wanted to hit their own comrade on the other side of the ring by mistake. And so here, now armed with two guns, Alex had the advantage in that he wasn't afraid to fire his weapons. And he was certainly going to press that advantage.

For the next few minutes, bullets were fired with such precision that with each hit another body dropped to the ground.

But the guns didn't have an endless supply of bullets, and Alex had been counting down shots until he would have to reload, until he would have to give up his advantage and allow the army closer in the few seconds it would take to arm up again.

_Click_.

_Click_.

Both guns went dry at the exact same time, and Alex threw the one he'd newly acquired at the closest agent, before reloading the other with the quick and clean actions of someone well practiced at that sort of thing.

It took him six seconds to reload a gun.

It took the army four seconds to react to the silence and leap forward.

It took Dessi less than a breath to take out the man who'd been moments away from tackling Alex and breaking his neck.

It was nice, really, to have such a vengeful angel watching his back.

_Dreaming dreams with happy endings_

Alex threw himself to the ground to avoid another lunge in his direction, sliding a few ways and managing to drag several agents down with him. While they were busy trying to untangle themselves, he leapt back to his feet and took out three more, two with bullets and the third with a well placed elbow to the neck.

The Coordinator's voice was soft in his ear, overridden by the shouts of the army and by his own breaths. '_Ten seconds until Rescue Team arrive_.'

Then Dessi spoke, providing more information. '_They're coming in from your left. Drop, tuck and roll to your right on my mark._'

Ten seconds was a long time in the heat of battle, but Alex continued nonetheless, lashing out with the increased force that came with the knowledge of impending backup. Pivoting to avoid the punch aimed for his head, and grabbing the arm as it said past his ear, Alex quickly swung and twisted it around, feeling the familiar _pop_ of an arm dislocating before shoving the howling agent into a wall of his peers.

'_Now_.'

He was becoming rather intimately acquainted with the ground during this battle, Alex reflected as he threw himself down once more, rolling to his right just as a hail of bullets from Rescue Team knocked down a wall of agents, whose bodies collapsed towards where Alex had just been. The arrival of Rescue Team (which included Shark, Eagle and the Sergeant, who was wearing his best and most terrifying scowl) pushed back the army and split right through their ranks.

It was a moment of reprieve for Alex, as the agents focused on something that wasn't him. He took the few seconds to stretch out his protesting body; clearly he wasn't as ready as he thought to engage in a full-out war.

'_Be warned there is a second contingent of spies approaching,_' said the Coordinator. Then, mere moments later: '_All teams engage._'

Alex looked up, startled, when that order was given, and his heart sank. The spy army must completely outnumber their own if the Coordinator thought that the deployment of their entire rank was needed.

Clearly Dessi was of the same frame of mind. '_Watch your back Alex. And ... keep Greg safe._'

'I'll do my best,' he muttered as he leapt forwards once more, his opponents greatly reduced in terms of the number of them actually concentrating on him now.

_In backyards, winning battles with our wooden swords_

_But now we've stepped into a cruel world_

_Where everybody stands and keeps score_

He had engaged in a very fast-paced hand-to-hand battle with a fresh faced youngling. Or at least, a man who looked much younger than he, but who was in reality only about three years his junior. Those three years showed though; Alex felt like he moved much slower than the other man, and that was not a good thing to be feeling in the midst of a battle. Both their guns had been lost some time ago.

He blocked the elbow with his arm, and felt the shock of the vibrations jarring him to his bones. That was not something he'd ever felt before. It was only by the skin of his teeth that he managed to hold back a panic attack.

However, he did hesitate, and the agent took that as the opening he needed to knock Alex down once and for all.

Alex barely managed to evade the oncoming tackle, twisting out of the way at the last second, his body old and tired and beaten and protesting every step of the way. And maybe that was how he twisted his ankle, because his body was close to just giving up on him, muscles that would normally hold suddenly going limp as he tried to halt his momentum. And so, his leg went right over his ankle, and he fell hard even as a sharp burst of pain flared in his ankle.

Swearing, Alex pulled himself up to his feet through sheer force of will. His twisted ankle protested heavily, but there was nothing he could do; fighting with one leg wasn't exactly favourable. But on the other hand, neither was limping, and that was pretty much what he was doing right now since any weight bearing set Alex's entire leg on fire.

He was easy pickings now, and he knew it.

'_Alex, duck_.'

Ducking was kind of difficult when he only had one functional leg, so instead he just dropped to his knees and hoped the movement wasn't too jarring. A sniper bullet flew past and straight into the agent who'd moved towards him with an evil gleam, who'd grinned because he knew Alex would be easy to finish off. It didn't help though, since another agent was eyeing Alex's struggle to get back onto his feet, pain evident in his face.

Somehow, Dessi managed to reload in record time and take this agent out too, but Alex knew she wouldn't be able to keep up, not forever.

_Keep your feet ready_

_Heartbeat steady_

_Keep your eyes open_

Rose suddenly appeared beside Alex, grabbing his arm with one hand and firing with the other. The agent went down in a spurt of blood, as Ben also appeared out of nowhere. Wordlessly, he wrapped an arm around Alex's waist and hauled his entire weight backwards, staggering towards the relative safety of a nearby clump of trees while Rose covered their temporary retreat, her gun going off at regular intervals.

Alex collapsed onto the bed of leaves the moment Ben let go. The older man crouched down beside him, pulling out a roll of hospital-grade tape from one of his inner pockets.

'You pick up habits from the team medic if you've spent enough time around them,' said Ben in answer to Alex's unasked question. 'Now hold still.'

The ankle was twisted and already starting to swell, meaning extra force had to be applied to pull his shoe off. It also meant that whatever reply Alex had wanted retort with was lost in his subsequent whimper of pain. Ben raised an eyebrow.

'Hardy veteran spy?'

'It hurts,' Alex snapped, flushing.

'Mm-hm.' There was a subtle smile lingering around the corners of Ben's lips.

Alex sighed. 'You won't let me live this down, will you?'

'Not in the slightest,' said Ben cheerfully as he proceeded to carefully wrap the tape around Alex's ankle, binding it tightly. 'Not even if you bribed me.'

'Good to know I have such loyal friends.'

Ben helped him pull his shoe back on, pulling him to his feet and watching as Alex gingerly tested his immobilised foot. There was a dull throb of pain, but it was manageable, and certainly much better than what it had been moments ago. He smiled.

'Ready?'

'Ready.' Alex nodded.

Rose looked up at them when they finally re-emerged, having been halfway through reloading her gun. 'Finally,' she said, shooting down an approaching agent. 'You good?'

'Yeah.'

She grinned and threw him a gun she'd no doubt pilfered from one of the agents. 'Alright then. Let's kick some ass.'

Fighting beside Rose and Ben should not have been the novel experience that it was. But something in their movements belied just how much their bodies had already been through. Rose was only a few years older than Alex; that was something he remembered bonding over all those years ago when they'd first met. But yet, here she was, with a newly healed leg that moved about as well as Alex's injured one did.

Ben had been injured that same year Alex met Rose. He'd taken a bullet to the hand, and if Alex's memory was right, had lost a substantial amount of blood in the process (though of course, considering that he himself had been captured almost immediately afterwards, along with Rose, Alex thought his memories of that particular occasion might have been a little dusty). The injury had healed without any complications, and that had been that. Alex hadn't realised that the injury was still giving Ben trouble after all these years. Or maybe it was fatigue. Either way, Ben's hold on his gun was precarious at best, his movements shallow and abrupt and done to prevent as much jarring as could be avoided when firing a gun.

Something twinged within Alex, something that felt remarkably like guilt. It wasn't a feeling he particularly liked.

So the next person he saw aiming for Ben, Alex took care of with a single bullet.

His momentary lack of concentration on his own opponent was taken care of by Rose, who slid past him and punched the other man square in the throat, knocking him to the ground with a well-placed elbow to the head.

'Thanks,' Alex said over the noise.

'Anytime.'

Alex nodded at her, and the both spun out of the way of the next lumbering idiot. Rose went after him, gun up and already limping slightly, and as Alex took a breather he happened to catch in the corner of his eye an image that felt like it was from his worst nightmare.

There was Greg, so tiny looking, and there were two (thankfully unarmed) agents advancing on him as he backed rapidly away.

Alex was moving before his brain had even given the signal, fear overriding the pain in his ankle. The agent closest to Greg reached out for the boy, and Alex wouldn't be able to reach him in time to stop whatever it was the agent was about to do.

He didn't need to.

The next second, that agent's head snapped back in a burst of blood, and even as his body crumpled to the ground and the other agent looked around for the shooter, Alex had tackled him to the ground. His head hit something sharp on the way down, and his body went limp almost immediately.

'Dad!' Greg exclaimed as he hurried to his side. Alex grimaced at him, and used his son's shoulders as support to get him back onto his feet. Then he drew him into a tight hug, smiling when he felt responding arms wrap themselves around his waist.

'Where are the others?' he finally asked.

'I don't know, I got separated.' There was no fear in his voice, and if Alex hadn't seen the terrified light in Greg's eyes, he would've never known just how scared his boy was.

'Stay close to me, alright? I promised your mother I'd keep you safe, and I enjoy having my head attached to my body.'

To his eternal amusement, Greg took a step closer to Alex as if that alone would keep him safe, would prevent the wrath of Dessi from going after Alex. In the heat of the battle, despite the fighting and the bullets and the blood, Alex laughed and ruffled Greg's hair.

_Keep your aim locked_

_The night goes dark_

_Keep your eyes open_

From her vantage point, Dessi could see the entire battle playing out before her. Which conveniently meant that she could keep a close eye on Alex and Greg. A very close eye.

And that was exactly what she did.

Throughout the battle, her aim swung between the two, shooting down any agent who so much as breathed in their directions. Terry coughed pointedly at one stage, and Dessi aimed towards the agent who'd been about to sneak up on Wolf, sending a glare over her shoulder after that job, before turning back to playing protector for Alex and Greg.

It had been a while since she had been a sniper, but her body still remembered it well.

She was in the zone, locked in to the mindset of a sniper who ignored everything around their immediate vicinity in favour of everything in the vicinity of their target. And she was putting her faith, her life, in Terry's hands.

It might have been a long time since their AIS days, and they might have never ever been partnered together at all, but Terry understood well enough that his gun was out and pointed at any and every small noise he heard, just in case.

Dessi fired off another shot, and reloaded.

Took careful aim, fired, and reloaded once more.

So engrossed was she that she never heard the three agents sneaking up on them, never even saw them make the ascent up the cliff towards their vantage point.

She never heard Terry's alarmed shout, or his being disarmed, his gun falling uselessly off the cliff. She never saw the overwhelmingly one-sided battle between Terry and the three agents, never saw him managing to knock one of them out before the other two subdued him.

Never saw his body thrown off the ledge, tumbling down, down, down until it hit the ground, limp as a rag doll.

She did, however, feel it when one of the agents grabbed her shoulder, spun her around violently, and smashed his fist right into her face.

_So, here you are, two steps ahead and staying on guard_

_Every lesson forms a new scar_

_They never thought you'd make it this far_

'Duck! _Duck!_' shouted Rose, though Ben responded by doing a sort of pivot out of the way of Rose's thrown knife. 'Damn it, Daniels, what part of "duck" did you not understand?'

'The part that involved the use of my already-aching back muscles,' he replied, pulling the knife out of the bleeding agent's. The grip caused a jolt of pain to spike through his palm, starting from the old bullet wound. He ignored it as best as he could, and handed the knife back to Rose. 'Nice shot though.'

'Aren't I always?' she said, flinging the knife once more through the thick of fighting bodies. Twelve metres away, and another agent fell to the ground with a knife protruding from his neck. Pat looked up, grinned and waved, and turned to tackle the agent that had been trying to sneak up on Shark.

Ben grunted as he shattered an agent's kneecap, before knocking him to the ground with an elbow. 'How's your leg?'

'Hasn't given out. Yet.'

'Ever the optimist.'

'Learnt that from you.' The smile Rose shot his way was bloodthirsty and vicious, and Ben was painfully reminded of just why he both liked and feared his once-protégée.

'Not all of it, surely,' he muttered to himself as he crunched an agent's nose under the heel of his palm. 'That I definitely refuse to believe.'

A familiar thump caught his attention then, the thump that was associated with a body falling to the ground from some height. Distracted, Ben turned away from where Rose had just snapped some agent's wrist, to see the expected body lying limply at the bottom of the cliff that housed one of the snipers, a slumped figure that he vaguely recognised. In fact, he was sure that that was the cliff where Desiree Swan was lurking. Which meant that that body could only be the body of one person.

Ben ran towards the body, trusting that Rose had everything under control. He skidded to his knees in a flurry of leaves, reaching out and turning the body face-up. In doing so, he confirmed his earlier suspicion, looking down into the closed eyes and bruised face of Terry Phillips.

He also confirmed that the man was, somehow, still alive. Despite the bleeding, the bruising, and the definitely broken arm and who-knew-what-else, Terry was breathing. His pulse, when Ben scrambled to find it, was there. Weak, but there.

Ben sat back on his heels with a sigh of relief. At least he wouldn't be breaking any bad news to spouses or partners in the near future.

Of course, that was when he turned back to signal to Rose, and caught her eye in time to see her getting jumped by seven agents, the exact moment her leg gave out under her. Her scream shot through the chaos of the battle, and had Ben leaping back onto his feet without a thought. Even as he ran towards her though, heart sinking with each second, he couldn't help but wonder why none of the snipers had done something to stop the agents from ganging up on Rose.

His mind refused to accept the only feasible conclusion.

_But turn around, oh they've surrounded you_

Dessi shook her head, trying to blink the stars out of her eyes in the aftermath of that brutal punch, even as she was pinned down from above, her head precariously close to the edge of the cliff. The agent above her grinned, bloodlust in his eyes; the other agent seemed content to sit back and enjoy the show.

The agent above her reached for her sniper, and Dessi twisted under him, trying to get her hands on it first. There was a mad scramble for the weapon that would be useless to Dessi at such an awkward angle, but would be deadly if used against her. The agent though, heavier, stronger and younger than her, wrenched it out of her grasp with a snarl, using it to slam her head down onto the ground.

Stunned, Dessi stilled for a second.

That second was all the agent needed, for moments before Dessi could get her bearing back, the barrel of the sniper was shoved down tight against her throat with a careless grin.

Dessi gagged, drawing in a desperate gasp of air as her hands scrambled to get some leverage against the heavier man. Apparently, the agent was not so keen to give Dessi the quick death brought about by a bullet.

It was a horrible thing, turning someone's own weapon against them; clearly the agent knew that. After all, death by strangulation meant she still had a few minutes to think, and to feel horribly betrayed. She twisted under the weapon that was crushing her windpipe, doing everything she could to throw the man off.

Unfortunately, lack of air also meant weaker and weaker muscles.

The sniper was slowly pushed down even further down, completely closing off her airway as the man used his entire bodyweight to bear down on her. Her movements became all the more frantic, trying to push her own weapon off her, trying to draw air into her panicking lungs.

The agent laughed cruelly. 'Who's gonna come and save the sniper, eh?'

Spots began to appear in front of Dessi's eyes, refusing to go away no matter how hard she blinked. There was a thought that drifted through her mind, soft against the body that was already shutting down. _No one's coming, not this time. They're all too busy keeping themselves alive_. That thought spurred her on one final time, and she bucked weakly against a weight that would not move, against the air that refused to enter her lungs.

She didn't know when she blacked out.

_It's a showdown, and nobody comes to save you now_

Alex knew something was wrong the minute he had to take out an agent who was sneaking up behind him, and his heart sank. Why?

Because Dessi should've had the perfect angle on that agent.

It was perhaps a little selfish to think that she was doing nothing else but watching his back, and perhaps she'd actually been covering someone else at that moment. But if the entire battle so far had been any indication at all, it was that Dessi had had her sniper trained on anyone who even squared their shoulders in his direction. Which only led him to one conclusion.

Something had happened to her.

'Greg, you stay here, I'm going to check on your mother – Greg?' Alex broke off when he suddenly realised that he could no longer see the short boy he'd turned to talk to, the boy who'd been by his side just seconds ago. 'Greg? _Greg_?'

The fight carried on around him, though no one bothered to engage him. In his current panic though, Alex was sure he would be even more lethal than he already was. Something or someone had incapacitated Desiree. And Greg was nowhere to be seen.

And despite the sea of bodies and carnage and chaos, Alex Rider suddenly found himself very alone.

.

_Please **REVIEW!**_

_Love Chariots99_

_PS - Someone is going to die by the end of this story ... kay thanks bye._


	20. The Kings and Queens of Promise

_**Previously, on "In the Name of Love" **__(Yes, it's been so long that I shoved in a recap...)_

'Dad!' Greg exclaimed.

Alex grimaced at him, and used his son's shoulders as support to get him back onto his feet. 'Where are the others?'

'I don't know, I got separated.'

'Stay close to me, alright? I promised your mother I'd keep you safe, and I enjoy having my head attached to my body.'

To his eternal amusement, Greg took a step closer to Alex as if that alone would keep him safe, would prevent the wrath of Dessi from going after Alex. In the heat of the battle, despite the fighting and the bullets and the blood, Alex laughed and ruffled Greg's hair.

.

Ben ran towards the body, trusting that Rose had everything under control. He skidded to his knees in a flurry of leaves, and looked down into the closed eyes and bruised face of Terry Phillips. He also confirmed that the man was, somehow, still alive. Despite the bleeding, the bruising, and the definitely broken arm and who-knew-what-else, Terry was breathing. His pulse, when Ben scrambled to find it, was there. Weak, but there.

Of course, that was when he turned back to signal to Rose, and caught her eye in time to see her getting jumped by seven agents, the exact moment her leg gave out under her. Her scream shot through the chaos of the battle, and had Ben leaping back onto his feet without a thought. Even as he ran towards her though, heart sinking with each second, he couldn't help but wonder why none of the snipers had done something to stop the agents from ganging up on Rose.

.

Dessi did, however, feel it when one of the agents grabbed her shoulder, spun her around violently, and smashed his fist right into her face.

The barrel of her sniper was shoved down tight against her throat with a careless grin. Dessi gagged, drawing in a desperate gasp of air as her hands scrambled to get some leverage against the heavier man. Apparently, the agent was not so keen to give Dessi the quick death brought about by a bullet. She twisted under the weapon that was crushing her windpipe, doing everything she could to throw the man off. Unfortunately, lack of air also meant weaker and weaker muscles.

The sniper was slowly pushed down even further down, completely closing off her airway as the man used his entire bodyweight to bear down on her. The agent laughed cruelly. 'Who's gonna come and save the sniper, eh?'

She didn't know when she blacked out.

**.**

'Greg, you stay here, I'm going to check on your mother – Greg?' Alex broke off when he suddenly realised that he could no longer see the short boy he'd turned to talk to, the boy who'd been by his side just seconds ago. 'Greg? _Greg_?'

The fight carried on around him, though no one bothered to engage him. In his current panic though, Alex was sure he would be even more lethal than he already was. Something or someone had incapacitated Desiree. And Greg was nowhere to be seen.

And despite the sea of bodies and carnage and chaos, Alex Rider suddenly found himself very alone.

**.**

**Chapter Twenty – The Kings and Queens of Promise**

.

'Greg! Greg!' Alex was shouting himself hoarse as he pushed his way through friend and foe alike, desperately searching for his son. '_Greg_!'

He had lost his comm. somewhere during the fight, and had only realised it when he could no longer hear the voice calmly reporting the position of both sides. Shame, that would've been helpful in his search.

'Mr Rider? Mr Rider!'

It took Alex a few moments before he realised that someone was shouting for him. Turning, he saw James and Cameron waving frantically at him, beckoning him closer. There was a limp body between the two boys, a small boy they were shielding with their lives, and Alex's heart jumped into his throat as he sprinted towards them, dodging and weaving and barely managing to avoid the bullet that soared past his ear.

'Greg?' he breathed as he skidded to a halt. But even as James moved out of his way, Alex could see that the boy lying there wasn't Greg. It was Pat, with a huge wound down the side of his face, whose eyelids were fluttering softly as he fought the pull of unconsciousness.

Carefully, Alex kneeled down next to the boy. 'Pat?' he said softly. The boy moaned in response.

'He got jumped,' said Cameron, his voice soft and terrified. 'He got jumped, and we saw it from a distance, but there was nothing we could do – we couldn't get to him on time!'

'We shot the three who did it though,' said James furiously.

Alex briefly shut his eyes against the despair of these kids already understanding vengeance. 'How long ago was this?'

'Ten, fifteen minutes?'

'And has he blacked out yet?'

'No,' said Cameron, 'no, we made sure of that. They did train us.'

Surveying Pat for a minute longer, Alex came to a decision. 'We need to get him to medical.'

'Is there even anyone still in medical?'

'There should be,' said Alex, thinking of Sandy. 'You two take him; I'll give you a distraction. You'll need to go that way though; it's longer, but safer. And whatever you do, don't let him fall asleep – we won't be able to wake him up if he does.'

'Sure thing, thanks Mr Rider,' said James.

'Don't call me that,' Alex said. 'Have either of you seen Greg?'

The two exchanged looks, frowning. 'I don't think so ...'

'Not in the last half hour, at least,' said James. 'We did see him earlier; he was quite close to where the Bait Team had originally been hiding. But we didn't get a chance to stop and chat.'

'Right, thanks boys.' Alex made a shooing motion with his hand, and the two boys took their cue to leave, carefully carrying a softly-moaning Pat between them. Alex, meanwhile, rolled sideways to engage the nearest agent, and by the time any of them realised that the move had purely been a distraction, he'd already taken down two agents and was well on the way to knocking out a third. Pausing only to quickly wipe the blood off his bruised knuckles, Alex set off once more through the battling bodies.

A snarl alerted him to the agent sprinting for him. Alex let the man come close, closer than he normally would, before he darted out of range and the agent spun, startled. Alex smirked, and bared his teeth. The man charged again, and once more he darted out of range, his feet light and graceful despite his general fatigue.

This time, when other agent charged again (seriously, was this guy mentally incapable of processing rapid movement?), Alex spun and grabbed his wrist as he slid past. The other agent's rapid speed meant that while his body kept going, his wrist was anchored into place. Alex used that momentum, along with a slight twist-and-pull motion, to dislocate the man's wrist. When he tensed with a howl, Alex jammed the wrist back as far as it could go.

The agent fainted from the pain.

Alex grabbed the man's gun out from his pocket, and reloaded it with the man's clips (because apparently he'd been too lazy to do that in the first place – seriously, if the guy had just used his gun, Alex would be the one on the ground right now).

'Thanks for the weapon,' he said to the still body, before setting off, now with a loaded weapon and twice as deadly.

.

'ROSE!' Ben bellowed as he charged towards the seven agents that had attacked Rose the exact moment her leg had given up. '_ROSE!_'

Her scream pierced through the clearing.

'_ROSE!_'

He shoved aside one of her attackers, bashing his head in when he tried to retaliate, and wrestling the man's gun away from him. He took out three more with the weapon, before the gun was shot out of his hand by one of the other agents. He dropped to the ground, his momentum allowing him to kick the legs out from under the agent, who toppled over and conveniently took out another on his way down. Ben kicked them both in the head to make sure they stayed down.

The last agent abandoned Rose's limp figure, sprinting for him and trying to break his nose. Ben ducked and blocked, before returning the favour and jamming the agent's nasal septum right back into the man's skull. He could feel cartilage crumble right under his palm, and the man dropped without a sound.

'Rose?' Ben said, his voice softer now, as Rose stirred feebly on the ground. 'Rose, can you hear me?'

A gush of air left her lips, but that was the only response.

'Rose, come on, this isn't the time to joke around,' he said desperately, grabbing her hand. 'Squeeze if you can hear me!'

Her hand remained limp in his grip.

'Damn it, Rose,' he whispered.

'Ben!'

Ben whipped around, muscles tensed for a fight, before he recognised the dirty, dishevelled, _broken_ figure that limped towards him. 'Alex?'

But the boy – the _man_, was no longer looking at him. His gaze was fixed on the point next to Ben; on Rose. He saw Alex's lips move, _'holy crap'_, before he dropped down beside Ben, a hesitant hand hovering towards Rose's shoulder.

'I wouldn't,' Ben said, and Alex quickly retracted his hand.

'What do we do?'

And at that moment, he looked so helpless, so lost, that it struck Ben that underneath the cool stares and the killings, this man next to him really was just a boy. He grabbed Alex's elbow, capturing his attention. 'Help me get her to medical.'

'I don't think moving her is safe. What if we injure her even more?'

'If we don't do anything, she'll die.'

Alex bit his lip, glanced down at Rose, before resolve hardened in his eyes once more, and that vulnerable child was gone. 'You go. I have to find Dessi; I think she's in trouble. When you get to medical, tell Sandy to expect a whole lot more casualties – if she hasn't already figured it out by herself.'

'You can't go out there by yourself,' Ben said.

He received a crooked smile in response. 'I've done fine so far, haven't I?' They both knew it wasn't just this fight her was talking about.

'Yeah, I guess you have.'

'Go,' said Alex, getting to his feet.

'Alex ... good luck,' Ben said. _If I don't see you again_...

But Alex understood, and he smiled grimly back. 'You too. Take care of the boys; they should already have arrived at medical. And if they haven't ...'

'I'll go look for them myself.'

'Thanks.' And with that, Alex set off once more. Ben didn't bother himself with the cliché of staring after the leaving man; instead he hoisted Rose up as gently as he could over his shoulder, so that he would still have one hand free to defend himself with. He then grabbed one of the fallen guns, checking that the clip was full, before setting off to medical as quickly as unobtrusively as he could.

He didn't know this at the time, but before long, they would all be gathered at medical.

.

He didn't know whether he had been walking towards Dessi's vantage point, the last known location for the sniper, for an hour or three, when a rapid burst of gunfire caused Alex to throw himself behind the nearest tree. When it stopped, he peered out carefully, only for a small, familiar figure to run across his line of vision, reloading his gun, and Alex almost cried with relief when he recognised the boy.

'Greg!'

'Dad?'

Alex pulled himself up to a sharp stop when he noticed his son covered in blood, his hands dripping with it, a swipe of it on his cheek, and on the tip of the gun he held. Greg ignored him, choosing to put a bullet through the brain of the agent who was trying to sneak up on Alex. The boy didn't even blink. He'd just murdered someone, and he didn't even _blink_.

'Greg?' Alex said softly, dropping to his knees. 'Are you alright?'

'The blood's not mine,' said Greg, apparently thinking that was the reason for Alex's worry. 'Some guy had a gun – not anymore – but I had to improvise. I used a rock,' he elaborated, and Alex could feel himself gagging at his son's nonchalant tone.

This wasn't the life he'd wanted for his son, this attitude that lives were meant to end at the pull of a trigger.

'Did you find mum?' asked Greg, when Alex's own uncomfortable silence stretched on.

'No.'

'Where's everyone else?'

'Medical, I'm guessing.'

'Are they alright?'

Alex grimaced. 'I don't know.'

A faint flash, a reflection off a tiny piece of glass, caught his eye as it swung towards him.

Immediately, instinctively, Alex threw himself under nearby cover, pulling Greg with him, just in time to doge the bullet that went whizzing past his ear. Peeking out, he was gratified to see the sharp light of the sniper scope turn away from him. Then he froze, and frowned. Because where that sniper was should've been where Dessi was staked out. But if the bullets were any indication, it wasn't her behind the weapon right now.

Which meant that someone else was picking off people from Dessi's vantage point.

'Come on,' he muttered, grabbing Greg's wrist, 'we have work to do.'

He pointedly ignored the almost bloodthirsty grin that spread across his son's face.

.

Dessi crawled her way slowly back into consciousness, fighting the alluring pull of darkness at every turn. She was careful to keep her eyes closed and her body lax. One of her arms was hanging limply off the side of the cliff. Her body just felt like one huge bruise. A voice buzzed continuously in her ear: her comm unit. _'... west quarter is short ... any available weapons should head towards the west side ... reports of an incoming helicopter ... opposing forces are being subdued ... only area of trouble is west side, all available weapons please head towards west side ... all available snipers please keep sights focussed on incoming helicopter ...'_

Above that calm voice though, was a rhythmic clicking and shuffling sound. It took her a moment to place the sound as that of a sniper being fired then reloaded. It took her even longer to realise that that was _her_ sniper.

Carefully, she peeked out through her lashes to see some agent using her weapon to pick off SAS soldiers and turned agents from _her_ vantage point. The slow simmering of rage began to build in her veins as she cautiously surveyed the cliff to make sure there were no other agents around. She wasn't about to make the same mistake twice, and allow someone to sneak up on her again.

And then, gathering what was left of her strength, she twisted, pushed herself up from the ground, and threw herself at the agent. The sniper clattered off the cliff as the agent let out a shout of surprise, unbalanced. Dessi took that opportunity to help the man over the cliff after her weapon.

Then she slumped onto the ground, the air rushing out her lungs. Goodness, she felt a little cold. With a groan, she rolled over onto her back, so that she could feel what was left of the sun on her face. A little warmth ...

Her stomach was feeling increasingly warm.

Looking down, she saw the spreading red stain of blood pouring out, seeping through her shirt. No doubt she had reopened her wound in the struggle.

Her fingers were definitely cold. Distantly, she tried flexing them, to make them warm again.

Even more distantly, a faint voice told her that she was probably going into shock. Her dazed gaze flickered around the empty cliff, and tried to focus on the blurry figures making their way towards her.

She tried to keep her eyes open, but she must have closed them because she saw nothing but darkness.

Warm arms encircled her, urging her into a sitting position, telling her to open her eyes (ah, so her eyes were closed!), to respond. She tried, she honestly did, but judging from the increasingly urgent tone, she wasn't succeeding. The arms around her tensed, and then she felt herself being picked up and carried away from where she was, and she tried to struggle because _she knew how to walk damn it_, but her fingers were so cold, and she couldn't feel her own legs.

The last thing she remembered was another hand, a small, very warm hand wrapping itself around her own, and squeezing tight.

.

Alex burst into medical through the door that Greg held open, his arms burdened by Dessi's dead weight.

'Sandy,' shouted Greg, rushing past him. '_Sandy_!'

'Greg, what –' Sandy paled when she caught sight of Dessi hanging limply in Alex's arms, the front of her shirt soaked with blood. 'Oh, quickly, get her in here!'

Gritting his teeth against a harsh retort, Alex ducked into the main room where most of the fifteen beds were already taken up by soldiers in various states of consciousness and pain. He set Dessi down gently on the empty bed next to Pat, who was now fully unconscious. Sandy immediately got to work, pushing Alex out of her way. James and Cameron practically jumped onto Greg in their excitement at seeing him alive, their voices the only happiness in the otherwise deadened room.

Rose lay on the bed opposite them, nonresponsive, Ben sitting by her side. When Alex caught his eye with a questioning look, Ben shook his head. He gave Alex the same look, glancing towards Dessi, and Alex shook his head in response as well.

In the distance, the distinct sound of a helicopter could be heard. Alex ignored it in favour of edging closer towards Rose's bed.

'Is she ...?'

'No,' said Ben sharply.

Alex quickly backtracked. 'Sorry, I didn't mean –'

'I know,' Ben sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. 'I know. How's Dessi?'

'Well ...' Alex had no answer, so he just trailed off. The two men turned to look at Dessi's bed, where Sandy was bent over the crumpled figure, working furiously. Greg, surrounded by James and Cameron, hovered on the other side of the bed, tentatively clutching at her hand.

'And Pat's not doing much better,' Ben surmised, glancing at the still boy before looking away. 'Believe it or not though, last time Terry popped in with an update, we were winning.'

'Doesn't feel like we're winning.'

'Yeah.'

The two lapsed into silence, the minutes crawling past before Sandy finally straightened with something akin to relief on her face.

The sound of the helicopter grew louder now, drawing closer and closer to Brecon Beacons. There were only a few people Alex could think of that could be on that helicopter, and he wasn't too happy with any of the prospects. Judging by Ben's grim expression he wasn't too pleased either.

They all looked up when the door burst open, Alex tensing and already reaching for the closest weapon, Ben's gun, lying innocently at the foot of Rose's bed. But it was Wolf and Shark who came in, practically dragging the pale and limp figure of Eagle into the room.

'It's Blunt,' said Wolf, as Sandy directed Eagle to an empty bed and began to tend to yet another battle wound. 'That was his chopper. He's here.'

Alex stood, unaware he was doing so, Ben's gun grasped in his hand. 'Where.'

'By the gates. He's armed, but we took out his guards. That's how that one got hit,' said Wolf, nodding in the direction of Eagle.

Alex was already making his way to the door, towards Blunt, before Wolf had even finished speaking. Because that was where all this started, at least for him. That meeting with Blunt that changed his life all those years ago. It was hard to remember himself as that young, naive fourteen year old. It was hard to remember a time when he hadn't been this jaded and bitter. It was hard to remember a time when he didn't hate Blunt.

Ben reached for him half-heartedly. The others watched him go. But it was the four unmoving figures that Alex would remember, the pale, limp forms. Of Eagle, the joker of K Unit. Of Rose, the youngest MI6 recruit before Alex had joined. Of Dessi, and all that she meant to him. And of Pat, too young to have been dragged into all of this, who had only just lost his parents a few months ago, and who was here only because of his relation to Rose.

.

The moment he laid eyes on Director Alan Blunt, the moment he walked out into the open, with the wind distorted by the still-moving rotors of the helicopter, everything seemed to click into place in his mind. A thousand memories shuffled into self into some order that made perfect sense; pictures of his parents, of his uncle, of Jack and Tom, of Dessi and Jake, of NCIS, of MI6, of Greg and Pat, of Rose, of the SAS. Everything became interconnected, a neat line he was able to draw through each and every memory, a way to line them up, a way for them to make sense.

He would never be able to explain it to anyone else.

He wouldn't need to. Not after this.

'Hello, Director.'

'Alex, cease this insanity at once!'

Good old Blunt, always giving him impossible orders. 'Sorry Director, no can do.' His voice was so calm that it unnerved even himself.

'You are getting good men and women killed!'

'Pot. Kettle,' Alex said, and he could almost see the vein in Blunt's forehead pop. He smirked. 'What's wrong, Blunt? Not used to someone talking back? But then, I was always different from your other agents that you cowered into obedience. Wasn't I?'

'You were always an insolent child, Alex. I can certainly see that hasn't changed. And let me tell you, if we had been the ones to raise you instead of your uncle, you would not be so disrespectful.'

Alex froze. 'What?'

'Oh, didn't you know?' Blunt bared his teeth. 'Well, your parents' never legally filed a Will in the event of their death. Which meant that, as per your father's contract, we had full custodial rights over you. 'Course, your _uncle_ fought tooth and nail for custody after your parents were killed, threatened to expose all our secrets, so we reached an agreement that he could raise you provided you were perfectly trained to –'

Alex pulled out Ben's gun, cutting Blunt off as he aimed it unwaveringly at the Director's face. 'You're lying.'

'What are you going to do, Alex? Shoot me?' said Blunt, his eyes hard.

Snarling, Alex took the gun off safety. 'You're _lying_.'

'I seem to recall you implying that that was my job.'

'Forcing me, and my son, and his friends, and who knows how many other children, into giving up our lives, and dying for you? Is that your job too?'

'It was to make this world, _our_ world, a better place. Surely you can't deny that what you've done has saved the lives of your helpless friends a thousand times over?'

'I don't think anyone can deny that, least of all me,' Alex said. 'But that still gives you no right to do what you did.'

'I act in the interest of Queen and Country,' spat Alan Blunt. 'Do you think the worries of a child concern me? At the end of the day, if the country I defend still stands, if I have done everything to ensure it is still there come morning, then as far as I'm concerned it is a job well done.'

Alex stared at him. 'And at what point did "Queen and Country" become synonymous with "playing God"?'

'What? I wasn't –'

'Yes, you were. You, the AIS ... all of you people dealing in espionage. Or did you think this was a science experiment, playing with the very genes of the unborn generation?'

Blunt spluttered. 'You were supposed to be our tomorrow!' he said. 'The future, that's what you were! We invested _everything_ we had into you!'

'No,' Alex disagreed. 'You invested everything you had into a dream that you forced me to become. I'm not the perfect spy; far from it, I'm the worst spy you'll ever meet. In fact, I'm the worst spy you've probably had the misfortune to meet.'

If he listened closely, Alex was certain he would be able to hear the Director's teeth grinding together. The grip on his gun tightened ever so slightly.

'I deviated from the plan, didn't I?' Alex laughed, bitterly. 'I wasn't what you were expecting was I? The perfect mix of genes, maybe, but you never expected something else to be harbouring there. Stubbornness. Rebellion. Curiosity. The very essence of a life that you never got a chance to stamp out, because my uncle may have obeyed your orders and trained me to be the perfect spy, but he took it so far that he trained me to become the perfect double agent too. To be able to think for myself when push came to shove. Is that why you sent him on that suicidal mission?'

'His final mission was never meant to escalate to that level!'

'It hardly matters now.' _But it wouldn't be the first time an agency has seen fit to so-conveniently dispose of an agent who knew too much for their own good_. 'In fact, I don't think I'm mad at you because of what you did to me. Well ... maybe. But I so wish I could kill you with my bare hands because of Greg. And Pat, and James and Cameron. And I don't even know how many other lives you've ruined in this pursuit to carve out the perfect spy.'

They stared at each other in silence, the leader of the old generation, against the leader of the new.

It was remarkable just how similar they were, with the same lines on their faces, and the same world-weary looks in their eyes.

It was scary to think that, if things had been just slightly different, there was every chance Alex could've ended up as just another Blunt, controlling the lives and deaths of thousands without any sort of moral compass. Playing God just because he could, and using "for Queen and Country" as his excuse. Ruining the lives of a generation without so much as batting an eyelid.

'I pity you, almost,' Alex said finally in a quiet voice. 'For having such a twisted moral compass that you can convince yourself what you're doing, what you did, was right.'

'It _was_ right.'

'You want to tell that to my son?'

'You want to tell that to the entire nation? Whose safety I am responsible for?'

Alex laughed, finally dropping the gun. 'It's over Blunt. Face it.'

'It's not over,' came the dark reply.

'After today, after all this gets out? What do you think's going to happen?'

Blunt snarled, lips drawn back, teeth exposed. And then, faster than Alex ever gave him credit for, his old boss whipped out a gun, aiming it steady and true at Alex's head. Alex had little more time than to blink in suppressed shock when there was a click, and the echoing bang of a gun.

Ten, maybe fifteen seconds passed in total silence as Alex and Blunt continued their stare-down.

And then, a circle of red blossomed on the front of Blunt's neatly pressed shirt. There was another pause as Alex stared. It looked like Blunt was staring too, neither of them able to completely understand what had just happened.

And finally Alan Blunt, the former Director of MI6, crumpled to the ground. He would never rise again.

There was a time when Alex would've given anything for Blunt to die, to be out of that man's reach forever. Now that that day was finally here, he felt ... more empty and confused than he could ever remember feeling in his entire life. There was no triumph, no gloating glory, no _relief_ that he'd expected to feel. Instead, there was only him, the empty husk of a being he had become, standing before the one person who had ruled his life. Who, now in the grasp of death, was nothing more than a man.

It was over, it was finally over.

And it left him feeling rather disquieted.

'...dad?'

Alex spun to see Greg standing a little ways behind him, eyes wide and a little too bright to be normal. There was a gun in the boy's hand, still hovering between its last target and the ground.

'Greg,' he said, his voice weaker than he would've liked. 'You ... you shot him?'

'He was going to shoot you!' And that fury in his son's voice, the vindictive justification for the murder that had just been committed ... that left Alex feeling even more uncomfortable than he already was. It was the eyes though, more than anything; those blue eyes he had inherited from Dessi, narrowed and glaring, and so cold, so completely devoid of emotion. It reminded him too much of Dessi, and that was not a good thing.

'Oh Greg,' Alex whispered, his voice breaking. 'Why? Why did you follow me?'

'I didn't,' and now, Greg's voice shook, and those eyes warmed a little. He lowered the gun the rest of the way. 'I came to get you. They sent me to get you. Dad ...'

'What is it?' Alex asked, striding towards his son, who he only just noticed was trembling. 'Greg? What –?'

'You have to come. Quick. Before it's too late.'

Alex could pinpoint the exact nanosecond when his heart sank lower than it ever had. 'Too late for what?'

Greg swallowed. 'To say goodbye.'

.

The death of Alan Blunt cemented their victory. Across the bloody battlefield of Brecon Beacons, Agents were putting down their weapons and surrendering to the soldiers. The silence after the thunder of bullets and fist-fights left an odd sort of ringing in his ears as Alex sprinted back to medical, his heart in his throat, Greg on his heels.

His mind was blank.

Normally he would've been tossing over all sorts of things, should've been thinking up consequences to each action, but now he could think of nothing but breathing and reaching medical as fast as he could. Greg kept silent beside him all the way there.

The door was open; the few injured who could walk all sat outside, their heads bowed down in silence. James and Cameron, Terry, the old K-Unit, including a very dazed-looking Eagle were outside too. They all looked up as Alex flew past, but made no attempt to detain him. Good. Because in his current state, Alex could not be held accountable for his actions. Bursting into the main treatment room, and Alex looked around wildly.

Sandy was doing rounds of the unconscious patients, wiping at her face.

Patrick was still out, still pale, still not moving. But he was breathing, his injuries neatly bandaged.

Dessi too was unconscious still, her hair mangy and dishevelled, the patch of blood still staining her shirt.

But it was to Rose that Alex ran. Ben looked up at his approach, his face stained by tears, his hand tightly clutching Rose's. His free arm wrapped tightly around Alex's shoulders as he dropped down heavily beside Ben.

'I was her mentor,' whispered Ben, utterly broken, 'why is she going first?'

Alex shook his head, eyes on the figure lying in the bed. The blankets were drawn to her chin, her eyes closed, her hair smoothed down and neatly arranged; probably by Ben, or Sandy. She appeared, for all purposes, simply asleep.

He wasn't sure how long he knelt there, beside Ben, staring at the unmoving figure on the bed. It could've been seconds; it could've been hours. Distantly, he was aware of a gentle voice, a shadow moving behind him, pulling Ben up and drawing him away. Even more distantly, he recognised the shadow to be that of his son, whom he had completely forgotten. Greg at least, had understood his state of mind, and his need to be alone, to say goodbye. Somewhere in the background was Sandy, doing her best to attend to the rest of her patients. Outside medical, the news had spread, and soldiers and agents alike froze and lowered their heads in mourning.

Slowly, carefully, Alex took one of Rose's hands in his own. It was cooler than he'd expected, more clammy too. He swallowed, his gaze wavering on her relaxed face, lips slightly parted, breathing much too slowly. Much too shallowly. Subconsciously, he found himself breathing with her, as if sharing her last few breaths would somehow make things better.

_In._

'Rose,' he whispered, voice stuck in his throat.

_Out._

He could remember that first time they'd met, all those years ago, with Rose having just turned twenty-two, and Alex a meagre sixteen years old. He couldn't ever remember being that young. It felt like he'd been born into a war he'd had to fight for all his life; and, in a way, that was true.

_In._

She'd been the only person not to gawk and stare when they'd been introduced. She'd been the youngest MI6 recruit before him. She'd _understood_.

_Out._

It was hard to believe that young woman in the van, with her masterful command over the technical aspect of that rescue mission, and her bright hazel eyes that had been so full of life, and her naivety at letting Alex out of her sight to "empty his bladder", innocently not realising he was in fact sneaking away, was lying here in front of him, too still, too silent.

_In._

It was too soon, much too soon, to have to say goodbye. Over the years, so many had risked their lives for him, so many had died but ... yet it was still too soon for him to deal with.

_Out._

'Don't do this,' he whispered, pleaded, as if it would help.

_In._

The breaths were coming progressively slowly. Alex could feel his heart in his throat even as he slowed his own breath rate to match.

_Out._

Then ... nothing. Alex looked up, waiting for the next breath, waiting so long until his lungs burned with need, and he gave in, breathing in. And still, Rose didn't move, didn't breathe, just lay there, her too cool hand still clutched in his own, her eyes still closed, her lips still parted for the next breath that would never come.

'Rose ...?'

Still nothing.

And it was like that, her hand grasped tightly in Alex's, her own nephew unconscious on the bed opposite her own, wrapped in the thoughts of everyone outside, that Rose Allende drifted gently away from this world.

.

_Just the epilogue left ... cries..._


	21. Epilogue

_(Casually crying as I write this ... no biggie...)_

.

**Epilogue – A Hero's Rest**

.

I have an unusual family.

Everyone knows that.

My parents are both spies. Well, they were. They're not anymore, for quite obvious reasons. But when they were, they were the best of the best. And, you know ... when the best fall, they fall hard.

All my relatives were spies too. Most of them, at any rate. Uncle Wolf and Uncle Eagle, they worked for the SAS. Uncle Terry, he used to work with mum. Just like how Uncle Ben used to work with dad. Uncle Gibbs and Aunt Ziva, they're my favourite relatives from overseas. They used to be detectives – Aunt Ziva even used to be an assassin! Uncle Tom's just a civilian. But he's hilarious. And Aunt Jack ... well, she's a little strange. But my dad loves her, so I guess she can't be all that bad.

I moved to England after everything, because mum can't stay in Australia without being "reminded of everything that happened". Dad says it's both the good and the bad things, but he won't say anything more. That's okay. If there's anything I've learnt, it's that secrets will never stay secret forever.

James and Cameron were both adopted by the same family; they live on the other side of the city. We try and catch up as often as we can though. They seem like they're doing really well; James even has a girlfriend!

Pat and I went to school for the first time. Like, real school. It was a bit of a shock. Most of the other kids don't like us, because they think we're weird. I suppose we are, to a certain extent. But it wasn't really our fault that we reacted to the pranks the way we did ... oh well, the doctors say that Xavier will be just fine. On the bright side, no one's tried anything like that on us again.

At home, things are going great. We moved into this awesome new house, and mum and dad even let me paint my bedroom any colour I wanted! We spent the first weekend breaking in our house ... literally. I don't think that wall will ever be the same. If it had been any other family, I'm pretty sure I would've been grounded for life. But after me and dad tested our knife-throwing skills against the wall and cut right through the plaster, all mum did was laugh.

Which leads me to my parents.

My dad, he's recovering. There are days when he gets overly paranoid, but I like to think I'm helping him laugh again. Every Saturday, we'd go down to the park and play soccer, me against him. It helps me feel like I never missed out on the whole father-son bonding thing. And I think it helps him remember that there's still happiness to be found in the world, even when it's so bleak and uncaring. He usually hangs out with Uncle Tom while I'm at school; Uncle Ben says the two of them get up to loads of mischief.

I think it's nice – I like that I'm not the only one who can make dad laugh like everyone says he used to.

Mum, she ... she has days when she's fine, and days when she's not. Sometimes, I catch her frozen on the staircase, her fingers clutching the banister so tightly I'm surprised she hasn't already ripped into the wood. Dad says they're flashbacks. Her mind never fully healed; most of her memory's there now, but there are still certain things that trigger her brain to just overpower her senses and drown her in her past.

She's not the only one with flashbacks. I think we were all pretty damaged by that point. I spent a good few months reliving those last few moments, the feel of the gun in my hand, the solid weight of the trigger, the sharp recoil, the blood, the life flooding out of a pair of eyes ... I didn't talk about that to anyone for the longest of times, because I didn't want my mum to worry, but dad figured it out, and sat me down one night. We went to the doctor the next day. I'm better now, no more nightmares or anything, but I'm not sure if I can ever be fine again, not after murdering someone in cold blood ... but let's not dwell on that.

My parents never did end up getting married. I know everyone was wishing for some big, fancy wedding. Or at least, I was. But it never happened. Oh well, they're happy the way they are – and after everything they've been through, I can't really begrudge them that.

When I moved out of home to stay at Uni ... it was hilarious. Well, in retrospect. On the day though, it was nothing short of mortifying. Seriously, Pat was laughing so hard I'm still surprised he didn't die from lack of oxygen. Or from the subsequent three books I threw at him.

So anyway, what happened was that my dad and Uncle Ben "bequeathed" to me a whole box full of stuff they had nicked from MI6 and AIS and NCIS and FBI and CIA and ... well, you get the picture. Admittedly, there was some pretty amazing stuff. Things like USBs that could only be used twice before it disintegrated, external hard drives with the biggest memory I've ever seen that are basically invincible to atomic bombs (okay, not really ... but you know what I mean). Uncle Ben even gave me a laptop that he had configured just for me – if anyone else tried to use it, the whole thing would shut down and refuse to work until I manually override it. Pretty cool, huh?

But what was mortifying was the fact that my dad decided it was time I got The Talk.

Yes, that "The Talk". The one that requires capitals.

What was worse, was the fact that he decided to make it into a huge show. I'm pretty sure it was originally Uncle Ben's idea to play "let's see who can embarrass Greg the most", but him, my dad and Uncle Tom basically sat me down, in full view of everyone, and proceeded to act out everything.

_Everything_.

I don't think I can even _describe_ to you how much I wanted the ground to just open up and swallow me right there. Honestly, Uncle Tom was doing this strange interpretive dance, and Uncle Ben was pulling out pictures and labelled diagrams, and my dad had _props_. _Props_! And I could hear Uncle Wolf and Uncle Eagle completely losing it in the kitchen with the traitor (otherwise known as my mum). And of course, Pat just _had_ to choose that moment to come over for a visit...

It was bad.

Really bad.

Horrifyingly bad.

Pat did redeem himself though, when we came back for our holiday and we snuck into my parents' room while they were out, and basically moved everything around so that they were in the opposite side of the room – as if someone had just stepped into a mirror world. I know my parents would hate it – even after all these years, they'll never grow out of the spy training – but I think they'd find it funny before they tried to kill me.

The final touch was, of course, a certain prop my dad had sprung on me before I'd left, the one he'd used as part of his Talk. Yes, I'm talking about the plastic object shaped like a banana, but when you take the skin off ... well, you know. I left that on the bed, under the covers.

I honestly never realised my dad could scream so high.

Needless to say, that pretty much got me grounded for the rest of the holidays. But the good news is that none of my relatives would let my parents ever live it down. _I_ will never let them live it down, just purely because it was hilarious! Really, dad should've realised by now – never wage war with a spy.

Especially one who's not afraid to fight back.

The first girl I brought home ... oh man, I thought she was going to wet herself! Dad was trying to be nice, but mum was doing that strange thing where she glares at you and makes it seem like she can read each and every one of your most private thoughts. I think it's her eyes. She has very scary eyes. And since I inherited those eyes, maybe I should be extra careful. It took a while to find a girl who could actually deal with all the insanity that is my life. She's really sweet, and beautiful, and super smart – I'm not kidding, she hacked Uncle Ben's computer when my dad dared her, and traded insults with my mum at the same time!

We got married at twenty-six; it was a big, fancy wedding, just to make up for my parents' non-existent one.

And now, three years on, we're expecting our first child. A girl. We've come up with a name too – Rosie Jane Rider. "Rosie" after Rose, obviously, and "Jane" after Jane Eyre (my wife is a huge fan ... I didn't even try to argue that name). Overall, I think it's got a pretty good ring to it, don't you? I hope she inherits my mum's eyes. When I told mum, though, she went ballistic. Dad says it's because she's come to associate her eyes with everything bad that's ever happened – because they're something genetic that kept getting passed down, just like whatever it was that supposedly made us good spies.

I guess it's up to me to show her that what counts is not what we can do, but the things we _choose_ to do.

I have an unusual family.

Everyone knows that.

But to be honest, I wouldn't have it any other way.

.

_The end._

_Trivia__ – the three books Greg throws at Pat are the Twilight series. There is deliberate irony in Greg's line '_what counts is not what we can do, but the things we _choose_ to do',_ as this is basically what Dessi said to Alex at the end of the very first story, all those years ago._

_Thank you all once again, so much, for sticking with me until the very end. You're all amazing, and there are no words to describe just how much your support has meant to me over these past four years (yes, it's really been that long, I know I'm in shock too). Thank you. Really. I love you all._

_So here's me, signing out for the last time. With love,_

_Chariots99_


End file.
